Broken
by siroccomo
Summary: Anger, bitterness, guilt and regret...
1. Chapter 1

Broken

Chapter One

The day had started off much like any other. The Lancer family had risen from their beds eager to meet the new day, mercifully unaware of the heartache that lay in wait. Cheery conversation had floated across the breakfast table; meal over the brothers had made their way out to the barn. Like most mornings Murdoch had bid his boys a good day from behind his desk, he had smiled fondly after them, their easy banter music to his ears. Content with life as it now was he had sighed with satisfaction, never imagining that by nightfall fate would again step in and tear his world apart….

The spirited beast had instantly caught Johnny's eye and he had looked on appreciatively as the stallion accelerated effortlessly through the dew laden pasture below. While its silken mane had whipped in the early morning breeze its corded muscles had rippled rhythmically with each swift, powerful stride.

The young man had grinned at the exuberant display of energy, the urge to follow had been strong, ultimately too strong to quash and he'd turned to his older sibling, eyes flashing with excitement he had stated confidently "He's mine."

Before Scott had had time to protest the dark haired Lancer had spurred his mount into a full out gallop, horse and rider hurtling down the rise at breakneck speed.

The blond had gaped after the younger man, stunned at the apparent ease with which he had shrugged off his responsibilities to recklessly head off on some impulsive jaunt.

Disbelief had quickly given way to understanding. It was, Scott had acknowledged, just the sort of rash thing his brother would do. The wild, carefree streak so inherent in the brunette's nature refused to be repressed at times and this was one such time.

Shifting in his saddle the elder Lancer son had pondered over the choice left him; he either followed his brother or headed over to the south mesa, there a long day's toil awaited him. Scott knew what he should do, knew what was expected of him, but he couldn't ignore the insistent little voice inside that incited him to do otherwise.

A mischievous smile had cracked the pensive countenance and with a whoop of delight that would rival any uttered by his sibling Scott had urged his horse down the hillside.

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At first Scott had found the chase equally as exhilarating as his brother, but his interest had soon begun to dwindle into unease. Their prey had quickly proved itself cunning, bold and retaliatory; there was something about the stallion's obdurate air that troubled the elder man. Johnny on the other hand saw only a creature blessed with a feisty nature, one he openly admired.

Half a day later the brothers were yet again discussing tactics, the conversation becoming irritable at times. So far all their attempts to rope the black stallion had proved unsuccessful and in the heat of the noonday sun tempers were beginning to fray.

Finally a reluctant Scott had agreed to help run the object of their quest into a nearby box canyon, Johnny was certain he could corner and capture the horse there. The blond wasn't so sure, although he would have felt a lot more confident if his brother had been riding Barannca. Unfortunately the trusted Palomino was resting back at the ranch having pulled up lame the day before. The chestnut gelding Johnny was riding today was young and excitable, a promising horse but not yet up to the tricky job in hand.

Proof as they say is in the pudding and as the three horses charged through the mouth of the ancient dried up ravine the gelding stumbled. The horse recovered quickly under Johnny's expert handling but never quite regained its previous confidence. The jagged rock walls that now towered either side of man and beast seemed to unnerve him still further.

Soon Johnny was fighting for control of his mount. Reluctantly having to admit defeat he eased off on the reins, but the chestnut didn't respond as expected. Instead of slowing to a halt he tried to unseat his rider, bucking and twisting, nostrils flared as its panic increased.

Helpless Scott could only watch from his now stationary mount as his brother unexpectedly lost the battle of wills. Violently catapulted from the saddle the younger man collided heavily with the unforgiving earth, bouncing several times before rolling over and over, finally come to a shuddering halt.

Leaping from his horse the blond sprinted the short distance over to where his brother now lay. Heart thundering in his chest Scott sank to his knees along side Johnny's still form, desperately calling his name.

Blue eyes fluttered open, although badly dazed one thought still occupied the younger man's mind "Scott…the…the stallion?"

"I don't know and I can't say I care." Scott spat in exasperation; the damned horse was the last thing on his mind right then. Ignoring his brother's protests he set about examining him for injury, finding a liberal spattering of bumps and bruises but mercifully nothing more serious.

Relieved Scott eased himself back onto his haunches and gazed determinedly down at his sibling. "I say we call it a day, before you break your foolish neck…"

"I ain't letting a horse like that get away Scott…" Johnny began.

"He has got away…" The blond interrupted "…and you…" Scott gestured at the layer of dust coating his brother "are only going to end up eating more dirt!"

Not prepared to give up so easily Johnny pushed himself up onto his elbows flopping back to the ground immediately as a wave of dizziness hit him.

"As fine a specimen as he is he's not worth…" Scott's voice trailed off as something caught his eye. Thundering towards them was the elusive black stallion, dust whirling up around its flailing hooves.

It was upon them before Scott knew it; he had no time to react, no time to move his still groggy brother to safety. The horse reared and crashed its hooves down, angrily pounding the earth just inches away from the brothers. Desperate to shield his sibling from the crazed beast Scott threw himself over the younger man, covering Johnny's torso with his own.

The force of the blows exploded through his body, a wake of agony radiated endlessly through his back, into his chest and up into his throat. Scott gasped, hungry for air, his lungs had emptied but were now struggling to expand. He felt Johnny shudder beneath him, heard a guttural groan followed by the anguished whisper of his name.

Johnny began to struggle but the young mans panic only served to strengthen Scott's resolve, he knew what he had to do, he had to hold him there, keep him safe. Again the hooves pounded him, nausea welling up inside as the agony peaked.

A gunshot reverberated through the canyon, but it was the familiar voice, horror filled that captured his attention.

"Dios! Scott no!"

Sensing the danger had passed the blond closed his eyes succumbing to the waiting darkness.

The nightmare had begun.

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Murdoch had watched the rider approach, disturbed by the apparent urgency that propelled him towards Lancer. //At the rate he was travelling…// Murdoch had mused //the man either had the devil on his tail or something vitally important to share.//

As the speeding horse drew closer to the corral the patriarch recognised its rider as one of his most trusted hands, his unease grew. Still a hundred yards or so away the patriarch could clearly see Walt's face, the rugged features devoid their usual warmth and humour, the countenance ominously grim.

Walt had hurriedly relayed the news of Scott's misfortune, minutes later Murdoch was in the saddle and urging his horse towards Green River, his injured son had been taken there and delivered into the capable hands of Dr Sam Jenkins.

The miles had passed excruciatingly slowly, Murdoch had tried to concentrate solely on the journey, on getting to his son but his thoughts had continually strayed to the events Walt had described. Three gunshots had rang out a few miles from where he and some of the other men were working. Firing three successive rounds on Lancer turf meant someone was in trouble and the men had responded quickly. Walt hadn't known why the Lancer sons were in the canyon, all he could tell the rancher was that Scott was unconscious and Johnny desperate to get his brother to help. With Scott settled in a wagon and on his way to town the ranch hand had been despatched to Lancer, the unfortunate bearer of bad news.

Green River had finally appeared in the distance and shortly after the patriarch's horse was charging along Main Street, townsfolk hurriedly stepping out of the way.

Bursting into the doctor's outer office, Murdoch found it empty except for his younger son. The young man had been seated, head bowed dejectedly. On seeing his father Johnny had gotten stiffly to his feet. The anguish on his son's face stunned Murdoch, he'd hoped against hope to walk through the door and hear something reassuring; instead it seemed he was about to hear to the contrary.

TBC

Molly


	2. Chapter 2

Broken

Chapter 2

For one long agonizing moment the rancher could only stare at his younger son. Dread wrapping its icy fingers around his racing heart as he gazed into the haunted blue eyes. Panic began to rise in his chest but Murdoch forced it down mentally bracing himself for whatever he was about to hear. Mouth suddenly dry he had to force his elder sons name out "Scott?"

"Sam's operating on him" Came the tremulous reply.

"Operating!" Murdoch repeated, he hadn't expected that and it took him a little while to digest the information. Finally he asked "How…how bad is he hurt?"

"Real bad! He's bleeding inside." Johnny slumped back down into his chair, his strength deserting him.

Alarmed the rancher sat beside the younger man, instinctively wrapping a supportive arm around his shoulders. He wanted desperately to comfort his son, he wanted to be able to reassure him, to tell him that Scott would be alright, that their suddenly off- kilter world would right itself and life would go on as before. But Johnny's demeanour scared him, bade him hold his tongue. He'd never seen his son like this before, the young man's open distress unnerved him, heightening his own fears. Was he about to lose his elder son//No! Please God, no.//

His faith was strong; his prayers had been answered before…they would be again. Taking strength from that observation Murdoch tightened his grip on his younger son "Johnny…"

"He shouldn't have been there! It shouldn't have happened…not to him." The dark haired Lancer spat in disgust.

"No." Murdoch whispered, the need to agree overwhelming.

"It was my idea, I took off without thinking and he followed…"

The older man listened intently, his heart beating ever faster as the story slowly unfolded.

"Scott said it was a bad idea…he said I'd end up breaking my neck. It should be me lying in there Murdoch…"

The blue eyes searched his and Murdoch knew the boy was waiting for him to damn him like he had already damned himself. Instead a calmness settled upon him, strength radiating from somewhere deep inside. Both sons needed him now and he would let neither one down.

"It was an accident son…"

"NO!" Johnny shook his head vehemently, shrugging off his father's arm he jumped to his feet to then glower down into the concern etched features "It was no accident Old Man! He did it to protect me, to save me…"

"You would have done the same for him." the words erupted from Murdoch's mouth; it had seemed an important statement to make. His sons were close, closer than he had believed possible considering how fate had kept them apart for almost all their lives. But Johnny still struggled with being part of a family; he still wasn't sure of his place, or of his worth.

The younger man's face contorted angrily "But Scott would never have put me in that position!"

The patriarch lurched to his feet gripping the smaller mans shoulders firmly.

"You're angry with yourself John, blaming yourself! Well that isn't going to help your brother and it's certainly not something he'd want you to do! What's done is done; we can't change what happened so we have to put it behind us and concentrate on what's happening now, on what's happening behind that door." The patriarch glanced towards the back room, to where his elder son lay.

"We will him well, back on his feet and home where he belongs. Do you hear me Johnny?"

The dark head bowed and Johnny struggled to absorb his father's words. He was uncontrollably angry at himself; horrified that his brother had been so badly hurt because of his recklessness…no he'd been more than reckless; his actions had been both selfish and foolish. He hated himself, wished with all his heart that he could change places with his brother. But beating himself up would help no one and change nothing, it served no purpose; it was simply a useless expenditure of energy. Murdoch was right he had to direct that energy elsewhere. Slowly he met his father's troubled gaze offering a resolute "Yes sir."

The patriarch sighed audibly, squeezing his son's shoulders reassuringly before steering the younger man towards a chair.

"Coffee!"

Johnny didn't answer, it hadn't been a question, more of an order and he watched as his father filled two mugs with the black brew. Sam Jenkins always had a pot simmering on his office stove. The doctor also had a bottle of the finest malt in his desk drawer, kept specifically for just such occasions. Murdoch was soon adding a generous amount of its contents to both mugs.

"Thanks." The youngest Lancer accepted the fortified beverage gratefully, eagerly sipping the hot liquid and relaxing a little as its warmth permeated through him. The two men sat in silence, both slowly becoming aware of the ticking of the mantelpiece clock.

"How long has he been in there now?" Murdoch asked tentatively.

"Over two hours!" It had been an unbelievably long two hours! Johnny silently acknowledged.

Perhaps he shouldn't have refused Billy's offer to wait with him, the ranch hand had been reluctant to leave him but Johnny had insisted the wiry redhead head back to the work crew. Alone with only his thoughts he had worked up one almighty head of steam, he'd continually paced the length and breadth of the room adding to the already building tension. Exhausted he had finally collapsed into a chair but something had to give and minutes later as his father had strode into the room relief and apprehension had collided head on.

He'd needed his 'old man', needed his strength and wisdom. At the same time he had feared his reaction; Johnny hung his head, ashamed. It seemed the old doubts still remained, the insecurities lingered. He still doubted his fathers love!

No, no he didn't, not anymore. The truth was he was terrified of losing all he had found at Lancer and sometimes that fear overwhelmed him and clouded his view of things. Murdoch had set him straight, been the father he needed him to be, now it was time to offer his father a little of the comfort he had afforded him. Turning towards the older man he stated "Scott's in good hands. Sam's the best there is."

Murdoch nodded; his son had said exactly what he had needed to hear. A small smile lightened his countenance. "He'll be fine. I know he will."

"Yeah." Johnny smiled back, his father's confidence contagious. Scott was a fighter, a survivor, he wasn't about to succumb now!

Both men's smiles faded as the surgery door opened. They were on their feet in an instant, simultaneously beseeching the doctor for news of Scott. The older man held up his hand to silence them, gesturing then to the chairs they had just vacated. "Sit down. Please."

Murdoch sank heavily onto the chair, his legs suddenly leaden; his son remained standing, motionless as if under some spell. "John!" the patriarch pleaded tugging firmly on the younger man's sleeve. It had the desired effect.

Pulling up a chair the doctor sat before the two men, his mind and body weary, his soul troubled. His gaze flitting back and forth between the two anxious faces he began to speak.

"I had to remove a shattered rib and more importantly his spleen. If I hadn't he would have bled to death. The operation went well. If that was the extent of Scott's injuries I would be fairly confident of a complete recovery but…" The doctor paused gathering his thoughts "but there's swelling and severe bruising to his lower back. I have limited experience in such cases but I believe there's extensive damage to his spine."

"What are you saying?" Johnny snapped impatiently.

"I'm saying that Scott is almost certainly paralysed, that he may never walk again!"

TBC

Molly


	3. Chapter 3

Broken

Chapter 3

A stunned silence met the elderly doctor, it was more or less what he had expected, such information usually took a little while to register. Sam knew it wouldn't last, that after the initial shock there would be questions no doubt accompanied by some highly charged emotions, he was ready for both, at least he hoped he was.

Disbelief quickly appeared on both the Lancers' faces.

"No!" Johnny breathed, his blue eyes willing the doctor to take back his words.

"You could be wrong." Murdoch insisted. He'd never known the old saw bones be wrong before but there was always a first time.

"I could be and I truly hope I am. Some might say I've jumped the gun a little here but I believe its best you know now what you are likely to be facing. If I am right, Scott's world is going to come crashing down around him. You are going to have to help him accept and adjust to a life changing disability. You won't be able to do that unless you have accepted it yourself."

"We'll cross that bridge should we come to it!" The patriarch growled "You said you'd removed his…his…?"

"Spleen." Sam answered eyeing his old friend thoughtfully before going on to expand a little on the surgery he had just performed, adding a gentle but clear warning of possible complications. Satisfied he had relayed all the information he could he crossed his arms in a determined manner "I know this has come like a bolt from the blue, it's a lot to take in and I can understand you not wanting to believe the worst but there is no hiding from this Murdoch. I've always believed forewarned is forearmed, that said I'm no despair monger. I'm just…well in this case I'm just trying to help some dear friends ready themselves for a possible crisis."

Solemnly nodding his understanding Murdoch rose to his feet "I'd like to see my son now."

"Of course." The doctor's gaze fell on the youngest Lancer, hoping he had managed to get through to him too. The young man's countenance was now as grim as his father's. Johnny was also ominously quiet, Sam knew the boy well enough to know that such a brooding silence was not a good sign, not where this Lancer was concerned. Deciding it best to leave things as they were for now he got to his feet. "Come on through. May's sitting with him."

May Jenkins was Sam's wife, a plump, rosy cheeked, delightfully good humoured woman. This kind, caring soul had had no formal training but had become an integral part of her husband's medical practice. Nursing and comforting all those in need of such and at the same time raising their three daughters.

Through compassion filled eyes May watched the Lancers enter the recovery room, her heart going out to both men. A friend of twenty six years standing May had no qualms about wrapping her arms around the tall rancher, words of reassurance slipping easily off her tongue. Murdoch had returned the hug gratefully accepting the comfort offered but Johnny had stiffened noticeable as she had hugged him; he had avoided eye contact too. The cold response worried May a little, of all the Lancers Johnny was the most sensitive; she was going to have to keep a particularly close eye on him.

"Sit here, beside the bed." May ushered the two men towards the strategically positioned chairs, waiting until they were both seated before she addressed them again "Scott isn't likely to wake for a good few hours yet, when he does you'll be able to talk to him, but not for long, he'll tire easily." Glancing at her husband who had remained standing in the doorway she added "We'll leave you alone a spell, we're just in the other room if you need anything."

There was a rustle of skirts, a soft click as the door closed and then suddenly the room was silent. The silence was heavy almost suffocating and it soon proved unbearable for one of the occupants, Murdoch's first thoughts spewed from his mouth "He's so pale."

Johnny could only nod. Like his father he was gazing intently at the sleeping form that lay unnaturally still on the bed. The blond hair was uncharacteristically tousled; the handsome face drawn and a deathly wan. The young man looked so very frail and helpless; it was almost like they were looking at a stranger. A sheet was drawn up to Scott's waist leaving his arms and heavily bandaged torso exposed.

Clearing his throat Murdoch leaned forward in his chair, reaching out and wrapping his hand around Scott's lax fingers he squeezed gently. "I'm here son. Johnny too. All you have to do is rest and concentrate on getting well, we'll soon have you back on your…your" The word stuck in Murdoch's throat, he was horrified at what he had been about to say. Shaken he turned towards his younger son only to find him on his feet and heading towards the door.

"Johnny?" His plea went unheeded and Murdoch could only listen to the hurriedly retreating footsteps and the closing of the outer door.

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"Whisky!" Johnny demanded ignoring the barkeeps friendly greeting. Snatching up the bottle and glass nervously provided him he stalked to the rear of the saloon. As he tossed back a mouthful of the fiery liquid a stern voice assailed his ears.

"That isn't going to help!"

Johnny swallowed the bitter retort he was about to make, his immense respect for Sam Jenkins serving to temper his inner rage. As the older man slipped into the chair opposite him the youngest Lancer groaned inwardly, the last thing he wanted to hear right now was one of the doctor's sermons. Sam was as skilled with words as he was with a scalpel, and although aware of that fact Johnny was totally unprepared for Sam's opening gambit.

"You know your brother isn't going to be able to run away from this!"

Wounded and equally shamed Johnny hung his head. Not only had he been running from the unthinkable he was attempting to hide from it too, in a bottle.

He'd never thought himself a coward before but it seemed he was. His self loathing deepened.

The familiar voice sliced into his reverie intuitively hitting the nail squarely on the head. "This isn't about you Johnny! This is and has to be about Scott."

Seconds later the doctor was exiting the saloon, a forlorn Johnny watching him go. As Sam stepped into the street Johnny's eyes settled on his empty glass and the bottle of liquid comfort.

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Hushed voices drifted into the room, neither one belonged to his younger son and Murdoch's heart sank a little further. When Sam had volunteered to go after the boy the patriarch had been certain of his return. Sam Jenkins didn't beat about the bush and Johnny normally responded to such candour, but not this time it seemed! Sam had returned alone.

It had been obvious to all concerned that Johnny was eating himself up with guilt. As his father, Murdoch could sympathise but Sam wasn't having any of it. As compassionate a man as he was he was no coddler. He believed Johnny needed to hear a few home truths; obviously the brunet had been in no mood to listen.

If he hadn't been so afraid of Scott waking and needing him Murdoch would have hunted Johnny down himself. He felt torn, he'd promised to be there for both sons but his youngest was making it difficult for him to be there for either one. Not that that was his intention of course, he just wasn't thinking straight and by now he probably wasn't thinking much at all, his mind too befuddled with drink to reason and more importantly feel.

The voices fell silent; a familiar soft tread approached the door, the rancher didn't need to look behind him to know who had just walked into the room.

"I can't do this alone John. I need you. Scott is going to need you too."

"I know." Came the softly spoken reply.

As his son sat down beside him Murdoch patted the younger mans thigh reassuringly "We will get through this Johnny. I promise."

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The two men had passed the ensuing hours with small talk, chewing over ranch business and local news. Sam had examined his patient at regular intervals mercifully able to reassure father and son that Scott's condition remained stable. The doctor's wife had provided them with a hot meal and a constant supply of coffee, her friendly chatter proving a welcome diversion.

Stars were shinning in the firmament before Scott began to show any signs of coming to. As the young man stirred his father called his name encouragingly. The blue eyes finally fluttered open the blond gazing at his surroundings in confusion.

"What am I doing here?" The weakly spoken words were accompanied by a grimace.

"You were trampled by a horse…" Murdoch began gently

"Only the one?" Scott groaned not quite convinced. It felt like he'd been stomped on by at least ten!

"It was the black stallion. The one we were chasing…remember?" Johnny ventured quietly.

"A black stallion?" Such a creature did sound vaguely familiar; an image formed in the blond's minds eye and soon the day's events were replaying in his head "He led us a merry dance!"

"Yeah." Johnny whispered.

Suddenly confused Scott challenged his brother "But he got away…didn't he?"

"We thought he had but..." Johnny paused and looked towards his father questioningly.

The rancher seized the opportunity to intervene, suddenly wary of Scott's reaction should he remember the actual attack. "I think that's enough for now son. You're exhausted, go on back to sleep."

The blond nodded meekly, he was tired, unbelievably tired, and content to be an obedient son. Heavy eyelids drifted shut but as they did so another image filled his mind, forcing his eyes open with its clarity. His face clouding over with concern Scott demanded of his sibling "Are you alright?"

Forcing down his emotions the younger man nodded "Yeah, I'm just fine. Thanks to you."

TBC

Molly


	4. Chapter 4

Broken

Chapter 4

"Thanks to me?" Scott's countenance took on a puzzled look. He'd done nothing to warrant such gratitude! The gelding had thrown his brother and…and…no, try as he might he could remember nothing more after that. The pain in his chest wasn't helping mind. At first it had been tolerable; he'd been able to hide his discomfort but now it was intensifying with his every breath. Within seconds it had become unbearable, robbing him of his composure, forcing an expletive out through his clenched teeth.

Scott's distress was instantly apparent to his family, driving both men to their feet. Johnny running to fetch Sam, Murdoch gently wiping the beads of perspiration from his elder son's face.

The sudden change in his first born son's condition terrified the patriarch, his hands shook uncontrollably and as he quietly reassured the younger man he could hear an unmistakable quiver in his voice. Silently he reminded himself of the fact he had to remain strong, that he couldn't allow his son to sense his fear. Clasping Scott's hand in his he felt the younger mans fingers tighten around his own, the white knuckled grip further proof of the agony he was enduring.

The doctor seemed to take an eternity to enter the room but Murdoch knew it had only been a matter of minutes. He and Johnny looked on anxiously, their fear only beginning to dissipate when a set of grey eyes met theirs, a soft voice gently assuring them that an injection of morphine was all that was needed. Minutes later the owner of the voice was injecting the clear liquid into Scott's arm.

To everyone's relief the analgesia began to work almost immediately. The blue eyes were soon closing, the blonds head lolling to one side, his shallow panting levelling out into deeper and longer breaths.

Just as he expected Sam found the young mans pulse rate had slowed, the previously erratic rhythm returning to a strong and steady beat. He turned around to again reassure his patient's family "He's asleep..."

"He is alright isn't he? I mean he seemed…" Johnny interrupted struggling to contain his concern.

"Scott's had major surgery." The doctor stated patiently, he'd already warned the Lancers of what to expect when the young man came to but it seemed they needed reminding. "I had to cut open his chest, removed both bone and tissue; he's bound to be in pain and considerable pain at that. The next few days will be tough for him…" The doctor studied both men's faces; both looked utterly exhausted "…and for you too! I suggest… no I insist you both get some rest. It's going to be a long night and an even longer day tomorrow if you don't get some sleep. I'm not asking you both to leave him, take it in turns! May's opened a bed for you upstairs; I expect one of you to make use of it right now!"

As the doctor left the room father and son eyed each other and prepared to lock horns. Johnny was determined to have the first word knowing that his father was more in need of rest than he "You first. I'll call you in a few hours."

The older man bristled, he knew Sam was right but that didn't make leaving his injured son any easier. Truth be told he didn't like leaving his younger son either, the boy would only mull over recent events if left on his own. "No John I think you…"

"Go on!" Johnny insisted pointing to the door before seating himself determinedly beside his brother. "I'll call you if he wakes."

The rancher absently rubbed his thumb across his chin, eyes burning a hole in the back of his younger sons head. He wasn't happy about the situation but someone had to do the sensible thing here and it seemed it was going to have to be him.

He took out his pocket watch and checked the time "You'll call me in two hours or sooner if he wakes?"

"Three." Johnny haggled.

"Alright three… and make sure you do!" Murdoch growled.

"Yes sir." Johnny responded, glancing over his shoulder to reassure the older man with his eyes.

Murdoch patted his boys back affectionately, then with one last concern filled glance at his elder son he made his way out of the room.

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Johnny had sat silently for the first hour of his vigil, obsessively watching his brother's chest rise and fall. Every now and again he would rest the back of his hand on his sibling's cheek checking for signs of fever. Scott had remained asleep, stirring occasionally but never really surfacing from his drug induced slumber.

During the second hour Johnny had started to become restless and had begun to wander around the room. He was uncomfortably stiff and miserably sore, every muscle in his body protesting the injustices done them the day before. He knew he was in desperate need of a bath not to mention a change of clothes, and that by daybreak he'd be needing a shave too. He'd pondered over his options, he had no intention of leaving his brother, not for long anyways, so he had decided to either make use of the facilities at Green River's one and only hotel or to ask yet another favour of Mrs May Jenkins.

By the beginning of the third hour the brunet was both physically and mentally drained, he sat slumped in a chair fast slipping into a maudlin mood. There was now no escaping his thoughts or his feelings so he simply let them envelop him.

Suddenly he was overcome with a desperate need to talk to his brother even if what he said was going to go unheard.

"I'm sorry Scott."

The apology was heartfelt, he'd never made a truer statement in his life and he had every intention of repeating it to his sibling the next time he opened his eyes.

For a brief moment his heart felt a little lighter, buoyed up by the thought of actually doing something positive. But a low followed swiftly, Johnny telling himself they were just words, that they carried no weight. Seconds later he was chastising himself for being so damn cynical, remembering all the times his brother had accused him of such. Scott certainly had his measure.

"I wish I was more like you." Johnny whispered the admiration in his voice unmistakable. "You always seem to get it right, you say the right thing, do the right thing. I've never known you mess up." The dark head bowed "It's all I ever seem to do, mess up I mean. Like yesterday!"

Forcing himself to look at his brother, at the undeniable result of his recklessness Johnny continued "You've been gettin' me outta scrapes ever since we got here. Guess you take the big brother thing seriously huh?"

A faint smile softened the troubled countenance, "You know you're more than a brother to me Scott, you're my best friend too. I think you know that, least I hope you do!"

Doubt filled the young mans mind on realizing he'd never actually told his brother how much he meant to him, how much he loved him. The excuse was grown men didn't discuss things like that. The truth was they just didn't know how! It certainly wasn't something that came up in everyday conversation. But if the emotion really was there then it was apparent in a mans actions. He knew Scott loved him, he'd proved just how much yesterday.

Johnny realised that it was too little and way too late and would again fall on deaf ears but it suddenly seemed the right thing to do. He opened his mouth to speak, the words he so wanted to say ready on his tongue, they were almost passing his lips when his brother's eyes flickered open. Startled Johnny found the power of speech momentarily deserting him; on its return he could only manage his brothers name "Scott!"

The older man struggled to focus on the blur beside him "Johnny?"

"Yeah. Hey brother, how you feeling?" There was no missing the affection in the younger mans tone.

"Thirsty!" The blond replied before licking his dry lips.

Jumping to his feet Johnny was soon pouring a small amount of water into a glass. "Here, just a sip mind." The brunet ordered as he held the glass to his brother's lips "Sam said not to give you any more than that!"

Scott simply rolled his eyes, he knew better than to go against that particular doctor's orders.

"You need anythin' else?"

"Could you help me turn a little?" He wasn't in any pain but neither was he comfortable, Scott hoped a change of position would put that right.

"Maybe I should get Sam…" Johnny made for the door knowing he was now in need of the doctor's advice.

"No, there's no need." Scott insisted already starting to resent being dependant on others.

"Murdoch! I promised to wake him…" Johnny edged a little closer to the door

"No Johnny! Let him sleep. I just want you to move my legs, I've been lying here so long I can't feel them…it's like they're not there!"

TBC

Molly


	5. Chapter 5

Broken

Chapter 5

The morning sun streamed in through the doctor's office windows; its radiance beyond compare and yet it failed to dispel the gloom surrounding the rooms three occupants.

Sam Jenkins sat behind his desk, Murdoch and his younger son sitting opposite him. The two older men embroiled in a discussion on how best to tell Scott Lancer of the full extent of his injuries.

Although having earlier commented on a loss of feeling in his legs it hadn't seemed to concern the young man. He'd fallen back to sleep as the doctor had examined him, and had made no further mention of the problem during subsequent spells of wakefulness, his level of awareness seemingly clouded by the morphine being administered to him.

Sam's findings had again indicated that there was paralysis from the waist down but he was in no hurry to impart the diagnosis to his patient. The doctor wanted Scott to be a little stronger physically and fully coherent before hearing the news. Still he wanted everyone else prepared for that moment well in advance.

"Ideally I'd prefer to wait a few days but Scott is no fool. He'll soon know something is amiss, better we are honest with him from the beginning. I can tell him all he needs to know…"

"He's my son." Murdoch declared fiercely "I should be the one to tell him!"

Sam smiled at his old friend's show of devotion "Alright…"

Johnny listened quietly as the conversation went back and forth between the two men. He felt helpless, out of his depth, unable to offer any input to the exchange. His admiration growing for both men, especially his father. As difficult as all this was for the older man he had been unfaltering in word and deed, rising effortlessly to the challenge.

The doctor was now trying to prepare them for Scott's reaction; Sam believed it would follow a certain direction although he could offer no guarantees and would make no promises. Murdoch too seemed confident that after the initial shock his elder son would face the handicap imposed on him with dignity and courage, the exact same way he had faced all other manner of adversity in his life. It might take some time but both men believed the young man would eventually come to accept the hand fate had dealt him.

"Any questions Johnny?" Johnny started at the doctor's voice. Yes he had questions! Lots of them… like could his brother still father a child? He knew Scott had hoped to one day settle down and raise a family. Certain he wouldn't like the answer to that or any of the questions spinning in his head Johnny replied with a quiet "No"

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Having had a tasty beef broth coaxed into him Scott was once again asleep. Leaving him in May's care Murdoch and Johnny headed over to the hotel for a hot meal, townsfolk stopping them and enquiring after the elder Lancer son. Johnny hadn't known what to say, it didn't seem right discussing his brother when the man himself knew so little about his own health. Murdoch had responded with a simple "He's on the mend" or "Better today thank you." It had seemed to satisfy all the interested parties and visibly relieved they had gone on their way.

As the two men passed the telegraph office Murdoch stopped and looked thoughtfully at the door.

"Murdoch?"

"Maybe I should let Harlan know?"

The fact his father was considering such a notion stunned Johnny. Harlan Garrett meant only one thing as far as Murdoch Lancer was concerned and that was trouble! Johnny had an intense dislike for the man too and couldn't stop himself from spitting a bitter "Why?" back at the older man.

"Because he's Scott's grandfather, because the man raised him and whether we like it or not John, your brother is very fond of him."

"He almost got Scott killed! Have you forgotten that?" The brunet snarled.

"No of course I haven't!" Murdoch snapped roughly steering his son into an alley where they could be neither seen nor heard. "Look, I'm not thinking about Garrett here, I'm thinking about Scott…"

Certain the elderly Bostonian would only use the situation to his advantage Johnny argued back "And Garrett only thinks about himself…"

"I know that better than anyone Johnny!" The patriarch raged. Hadn't Garrett took his new born son on a whim, then used all manner of deceit to keep father and son apart for twenty five years! Murdoch hated the man for what he'd so selfishly done but still, he couldn't deny the feelings Scott had for his grandfather. Right now it was what Scott wanted and needed that mattered. As much as he detested the idea he knew his elder son might just need his grandfather's support through the dark days that lay ahead. His anger burning itself out as quickly as it had ignited Murdoch heaved a sigh and in a conciliatory tone added "I just want to do what's best for your brother."

His own anger now on the ebb Johnny stared down at the floor as he gathered his troubled thoughts, finally he met his father's searching gaze "I know. But maybe we should wait and see what happens with Scott? If he asks for his grandfather, then we'll send for him."

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As father and son stepped back inside Sam's office they were met by a serious faced May Jenkins. "I was just coming to get you…"

"Has something happened? Is Scott alright?" The rancher strode towards his sons room not waiting for an answer to either question, Johnny hot on his heels. May could only follow on behind ready to provide the support the Lancer family were about to need.

Both Lancer men's eyes settled on the figure in the bed, fury burnt in the young mans cheeks and his blue eyes stared back at them accusingly "There's something you're not telling me"

Side by side father and son moved towards the bed. "Scott calm down…" Murdoch began only to be silenced by another angry outburst.

"I can't feel my legs, I can't move them!"

"I know." The patriarch replied softly desperately trying to control his own emotions.

Scott flinched as if he had been physically struck before declaring in a voice ringing with both disbelief and self disgust "I…I messed myself!" He had been mortified when he had realized what he'd done, and virtually helpless he had then had to let May change both himself and his bed. As shame gave way to fear and suspicion he had demanded to see the doctor but Sam was out making his rounds. Growing angry and increasingly impatient for answers he'd insisted May leave him and fetch his father and brother, certain they could explain his sudden inability to control his own body. Fear again manifesting itself as anger rose up in his throat "What is it you're keeping from me?"

"Scott you have to calm down." Murdoch ordered worried that in such an agitated state the young man would tear open the stitches of his chest wound. He sat down on the bed and gently pushed the young man back against the pillows. "There is something we haven't told you but only because you're so weak…"

"Tell me!" Scott demanded eyes darting wildly between his father and brother.

"It's your back. It's damaged, broken…" the patriarch struggled to find the appropriate words.

"No!" The blond ground out defiantly, that couldn't be right! He glared at his brother "That's not true is it Johnny?"

"I'm sorry Scott…"

"No." Scott interrupted his sibling, it wasn't what he wanted to hear "You don't know what you're talking about…either of you!" I want to speak to Sam."

"As soon as he gets back you can but he'll only confirm what…"

"But you're saying I'm paralyzed?! That my legs are useless..." Scott paused briefly before adding in a voice heavy with contempt "…that I'm little more than useless"

"No! That's not true." Murdoch replied horrified at the direction the conversation was now taking. "Scott please listen to me…"

"I don't want to hear any more! Get out! Get out both of you!" The blond demanded, when neither man made any attempt to move he turned his attention to May Jenkins "I want them out of here now!"

The Lancers' allowed themselves to be ushered from the room, taking strength from the reassurance shining in May's eyes. Once in the outer office they could only stare at each other, neither man knowing what to say or do. Scott had pushed them away and they had let him…and this was only the beginning.

TBC

Molly


	6. Chapter 6

Broken

Chapter 6

"He's scared and he's hitting out at you two but only because he can, because he feels able to." Doctor Sam Jenkins comments were met by a despondent silence, he sighed knowing it was going to take a lot more reassurance from him to rally these particular troops. "It's an indication of how much he trusts you…"

Murdoch harrumphed bitterly and lurched to his feet pacing agitatedly before Sam's desk "I let him down in there! Not for the first time either. As usual I said the wrong thing…"

"There is no 'right thing' to say Murdoch…" Sam interrupted "…not in these circumstances; he'd have jumped down anyone's throat! I told you this wasn't going to be easy, I talked you through Scott's possible reactions and so far he's reacting just like I said he would, with fear and anger.

He doesn't want to hear the truth, he's in denial and again that's just what I told you to expect. He's asked for a second opinion and I've assured him I'll get one but I don't believe for one minute he'll accept anyone's word, not until he's ready to. This phase will pass; you are just going to have to ride out the storm no matter how bad it is."

"But he's refusing to see us." Johnny exclaimed, never had he felt so helpless.

"He's asleep now and he'll sleep some of that anger off, just make sure you are there when he wakes. Make it plain you are going nowhere and that you have no intention of letting him face this alone."

Slumping wearily into his chair the rancher asked "So if he tells us to get out again we simply ignore his wishes? Ride roughshod over them?"

"I'm not saying that. Strike a balance! Scott doesn't know what he needs or what's best for him at the moment, but you know that boy, you can think for him when he's not thinking clearly himself, just play it by ear."

The patriarch nodded, Sam had managed to reassure him if only just a little, he glanced sideways at his younger son, the young man didn't look quite so dejected either.

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Awareness had crept upon him and he'd risen reluctantly from the depths of sleep. He had felt safe in the endless darkness; free from pain and worries of any kind. Now he hovered in a twilight world, trying to find the courage to open his eyes.

The real world scared him! It never had before, not like it did now. He'd met life's challenges and even the horrors of war head on; he had been called courageous…where was that courage now?

He had been so angry before, he had completely lost control. It embarrassed him just to think about it, no gentleman or soldier would behave that way and he'd one prided himself on being both. Part of him knew his family would understand, that they would think no less of him, while another part reminded him of how strong and resilient both men were, insisting that they would have handled the situation a damn sight better than he.

Sam had been the one to finally calm him down, a firm voice and a no nonsense air no match for his childish tantrum. He had listened stone faced to the diagnosis and prognosis then calmly told the doctor he wanted a second opinion. Only now did he realize just how coldly he had cast doubt on a much respected doctors competence!

Well all in all he'd done a good job of disgracing himself! He wasn't sure how to put it right or even if he could. Facing his father and brother had seemed the most daunting, and so he'd feigned sleep, eavesdropping on their hushed conversations. But he couldn't hide forever and the world wouldn't just go away on his bidding. Telling himself it would all work out he turned his head, opening his eyes to lamplight and two very worried faces.

"I'm sorry about before…"

"No son, don't apologize…"

"I want to. It's important that I do." Scott interrupted his father desperate to clear the air, to regain a little of his dignity at least. "I am sorry; I know you have both acted with the best of intentions, that you only had my best interests at heart. I appreciate that and everything else everyone has done for me…" It sounded stiff and so very formal even to his own ears and the blond paused willing something more appropriate to come out of his mouth.

Murdoch seized the opportunity "We know how hard this must be for you Scott; we don't expect you to just accept it without question."

"Like you have!" The blond spat. The comment had irritated him; of course he wasn't going to 'just accept it'. He couldn't, wouldn't give up on himself so easily. He was still healing after all! A few more days and he would have regained some strength and maybe then his legs would obey his commands. No he wasn't ready to label himself a cripple or resign himself to a life spent in a chair, even if his family was.

The patriarch bristled "It's not that I've accepted it Scott…"

"You talk like you have!" Scott volleyed, he could feel his temper rising again and struggled to contain it, he'd just apologized for Gods sake and here he was about to mouth off again.

"I'm struggling with the evidence but there's no denying its there. I don't want it to be true son but…"

Again it wasn't what he wanted to hear, why was the old man being so negative? "You're very quiet!" Scott snarled in his brother's direction "What do you make of the so called 'evidence'?

His gaze fixed determinedly on the older man Johnny replied calmly "It don't really matter what I think Scott, it's you that's gotta see it for what it is!" He'd half expected an angry retort but instead his sibling seemed to be absorbing his words.

"I'm not going to wake up from this nightmare!" The blond finally stated his tone flat void of any emotion.

"I know things look bleak now son but…"

"Bleak?" Scott shook his head a hint of exasperation in his voice. "There's no light at the end of this tunnel Murdoch! All I can see right now is a black empty nothingness…"

"That will change! You'll change, adapt…" Murdoch tried to reason.

"I don't want to change. I don't want to adapt. I like my life the way it is…the way it was before…before that damn stallion." Suddenly Scott found he could direct his anger elsewhere and he demanded "What happened to him Johnny?"

"I shot him. I had to he was…" Johnny's voice trailed off at the memory. The black devil had been about to attack again. His brother's weight and determination were pinning him down, horrified he'd struggled desperately trying to free his right arm, but to no avail. Somehow and just in the nick of time he'd managed to wrench his left hand away from the restraint, he'd snatched Scott's gun from its holster, fired one shot, his aim mercifully true.

"Of course you had to!" The elder Lancer son stated indignantly. "He was a killer."

Johnny hung his head, guilt again washing over him. The animal hadn't asked to be chased; he hadn't asked to be corned. He'd retaliated out of fear, striking back at his tormentors; he'd acted like any wild creature would. The horse was as much a victim of his foolishness as his brother was, and it had paid the ultimate price. Johnny knew he couldn't hide behind the innocent anymore. "No Scott. You've every right ta be angry but not at the stallion. I'm responsible for what happened ta you, it's me you should be angry with."

The blond narrowed his eyes his brother wasn't making any sense.

"He came after me…" The details spewed from the brunet's mouth and when every gut wrenching moment had been aired he was forced to swallow the painful lump left behind in his throat.

Scott had listened silently, he still had no memory of those last moments and maybe, he decided, it was better that way. Glancing at his father he could see the older man had been moved by the emotion filled outburst, the brown eyes were moist, for once his feelings openly on show. He himself felt a little embarrassed, why he wasn't sure all he knew was he couldn't let his brother continue hurting the way he was right now.

"I don't remember but then I don't need to. I know I would do the exact same thing again no matter the consequences."

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Murdoch hadn't doubted his elder sons words at the time, he didn't doubt them now one week later, but he felt sure his younger son was beginning to. It had proved a very trying seven days. Scott's mood had fluctuated dramatically between calm acceptance and utter rage. Johnny on the receiving end of the latter more often than not. The young man couldn't seem to say or do a single thing right.

According to Sam it was still early days, he believed Scott was venting his anger at the one he felt closest to, that it had nothing to do with apportioning blame of any kind. So far there had been no retaliation on Johnny's part, he'd simple ignored his brother's outbursts but it was starting to affect the boy, Murdoch was sure of that. He was quiet, too quiet, obviously brooding on things. It worried the patriarch; he knew his dark haired son was ill equipped to deal with such emotional turmoil. A storm was brewing within those four wall, hot and cold air about ready to collide.

TBC

Molly


	7. Chapter 7

Broken

Chapter 7

"He's late!" Scott scowled his displeasure "We said nine and it is now half past!"

"Something must have delayed him…" Murdoch began hoping to stop an argument before it had chance to start.

"Like what?" The blond asked but before his father could reply he was answering the question himself, heaping on scorn and seemingly relishing doing so "An extra hour in bed? Yes that sounds about right"

"Scott you're not being fair…"

"He's not being fair! He knows how important this is to me!"

"Yes he does!" Murdoch agreed grasping the life line thrown to him "And that's why I'm sure he will have a good reason for keeping you waiting."

"He better have!" The blond snapped.

Murdoch sighed to himself; he'd been so looking forward to today albeit with a tinge of apprehension. Scott was coming home! Almost two weeks after his devastating injury Sam had agreed to let the young man make the journey back to Lancer. His ground floor bedroom had been carefully rearranged and was now hopefully more suited to his disability. They had a wheeled chair on order but it would not arrive from San Francisco for another month at least. In the meantime they had gratefully accepted the one offered to them by Lilia Jones, it had been her late husbands but with him gone she no longer had use for it.

Scott seemed to view the chair with a curious mix of loathing and delight; it highlighted his handicap but at the same time provided him with a welcome measure of independence. Unfortunately it had also been the most recent cause of friction between the two brothers; Johnny had suggested he take his brother outside in it, believing the older man would like to again feel the sun on his face. The youngest Lancer's well intentioned offer had been cruelly thrown back in his face "What wheel the cripple up and down Main Street for everyone to gape at? I don't think so!"

Johnny had ignored the comment, just like he had stoically ignored all his brother's slights. Now it seemed he was about to be on the receiving end of his brother's ire once more, but how much more was he willing to take? How much could he take?

Murdoch hoped once they were home and life had settled down into some resemblance of normality that his sons' relationship would again thrive. If it didn't he knew there would be consequences, consequences he couldn't bear to think about. He was in danger of losing at least one of them, maybe even both.

"Sorry I'm late!"

"Johnny!" Murdoch breathed the name, relieved to see his younger son finally step into the room.

"What kept you?" Scott growled.

The brunets smile faded "Mr Peterson. That old wagon of his lost a wheel; I couldn't leave him on the side of the road."

"No. But you could leave me waiting here!"

"I said I was sorry!" Johnny replied quietly, not quite able to believe his brother was angry at him over what truly had been an unavoidable delay.

"Where's the carriage?" the blond demanded

"Right out front." The younger man answered uneasily, was Scott going to pick fault with that too?

"Bring it round the back."

"The back?" Johnny glanced at his father unsure of what to make of his brother's request.

Murdoch gestured towards the door "Go on son". As Johnny disappeared through it he turned towards his elder son "Why Scott?"

"Because I have precious little dignity left me as it is!"

"You can't hide from people…"

"I'm not hiding!" The younger man hissed.

"Yes you are! You don't want people to see you in that chair; you don't want them to see you lifted into the carriage…"

"Would you?" Scott glared up at his father.

"No." Murdoch replied truthfully "But I would just have to get used to it just like you are going to have to get used to it… like it or not!" His words had been harsh but they had needed saying and they had apparently hit home, his son wouldn't look at him now as he spoke.

"Sometimes I think I can cope, that I can handle this but most of the time I know I can't."

"You can, you are." The patriarch insisted not liking the defeatist tone in his son's voice, that wasn't the Scott he knew talking!

"No I'm not and I don't think I ever will!"

"Scott it's only been a couple of weeks…"

"And they have been the longest two weeks of my life!" The younger man interrupted eyes now locked on his father's. "No! The thought of being like this for the rest of my life…well…that's not living Murdoch, it's existing and that's not enough for me…"

"Life is what you make it!" Murdoch argued.

"Life is living the way you want to live…I don't want to live like this!"

The remark troubled Murdoch deeply. Sam had warned him that Scott might fall into a depression as he struggled to come to terms with his handicap, and right now it seemed he had. "Scott, I know…"

"No." The younger man held up his hand to silence his father "Please don't tell me you know how I feel because you don't, you can't possibly understand Murdoch."

Hardening his heart Murdoch replied "No I don't but I do know what self pity feels like Scott! I know that it's much easier to wallow in that rather than face up to whatever is causing us pain. We are all entitled to feel that way from time to time, it's a coping mechanism of sorts, but its not the answer, its not a way out of the situation!"

"There is no way out of this!" The blond spat bitterly. "My life now revolves around this chair!"

"Only if you allow it to! Scott please…" The patriarch bit back on his words as the door again swung open.

"Somethin' wrong?" Johnny asked sensing the tension in the room.

"Murdoch thinks I'm wallowing in self pity! What do you think?"

The brunets troubled gaze moved between the two men to finally settle on his brother "I think ya lookin for an argument Scott! Well I ain't gonna oblige ya with one! I'll wait for ya outside." Turning swiftly on his heels Johnny walked out of the room slamming the door behind him.

"This isn't going to work." Scott stated coldly, maneuvering his chair around he wheeled himself away from the door.

Murdoch struggled to contain his temper asking in a flat tone "What isn't going to work?"

"Us! Lancer! I think it best I return to Boston." Looking his father directly in the eye the blond continued "I'll start making the necessary arrangements."

TBC

Molly


	8. Chapter 8

Broken

Chapter 8

The Lancer patriarch stared morosely into the roaring log fire; its writhing flames seemingly as tormented as he. He sipped greedily on his night cap, the glass a little fuller than usual but by God had he needed a drink!

The whisky's warmth seeped through him, helping chase away the chill dread and doubt had had him steeped in all day. It had been a long day, tiring and emotionally wrought, still he could console himself a little now with the fact both his sons were still under his roof. The worrying question was for just how long would they remain so?

That very morning he had had to persuade his elder son into giving life at Lancer a chance. From somewhere he had found the reasoning needed to get the younger man home and into allowing himself some time to adjust to his new circumstances before he gave any more thought to moving back to Boston.

The rancher had barely recognized the sullen argumentative young man who had faced him in the doctor's office. Scott was troubled, in pain both physically and mentally and as his father Murdoch felt completely inadequate, he just didn't know how best to help him.

The journey home had been strained, a combination of awkward silences and stilted conversation. But Murdoch hadn't missed the change of expression on Scott's face when he once again set eyes on the Lancer hacienda. His elder son hadn't been able to hide his love for the place, it was still home to the boy whether he wanted to believe it or not. It was, Murdoch knew, up to his family to help convince him of that.

Scott hadn't said very much and it was what he'd left unsaid that troubled Murdoch the most. What were his real reasons for believing he'd be better off in Boston? Surely it couldn't be the tension that now existed in the family! They had survived much worse.

With Teresa away in Europe Maria had cooked a special welcome home meal but the celebrations had fallen flat. Scott blaming tiredness for wanting to eat in his room and to then retire early. It was understandable of course, the young man was still in the early days of his recovery but Murdoch sensed too that his blond son preferred the isolation of his bedroom than having to interact with his family. He was hiding in there, not a good start but hopefully tomorrow he would feel more like facing the world as unpleasant as he now seemed to find it.

As for Johnny, well his dark haired son was causing his father great concern too. He had only half eaten his meal, a telltale sign of the youngest Lancers mood. He'd excused himself then took off to the bunkhouse, no doubt hoping to lose himself in a few games of poker and some much cheerier company.

Murdoch hadn't mentioned Scott's decision to leave to his younger son; he'd not known how to broach the subject or even if he should. He longed to share the burden with someone who understood but didn't think it fair to add to Johnny's already heavy sense of guilt. So he sat all alone, just like he'd done before his boys had come home, his heart once again aching over them.

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Raucous laughter echoed through the still night, bunkhouse camaraderie spilling out into the cool evening air. A smile graced the youngest Lancers face but only fleetingly and he heaved a forlorn sigh. He'd almost been a part of the high spirits but at the last minute his feet had taken him in the opposite direction. He'd wandered aimlessly around the corral, checked on Barranca and then found himself sitting on a secluded bench in the orchard. He had sat there for the last hour listening to the sounds of night and staring up at the star speckled sky.

The moon was almost full, its pale soothing light illuminating the hacienda giving it a deceptively tranquil appearance. It might be quiet inside but its occupants were certainly not at peace. He'd found the earlier atmosphere unbearable, his brother was so distant, irritatingly polite. He didn't know what was worse, being on the receiving end of Scott's black moods or the suffocating aloofness that had emanated from the older man tonight. He hated the situation, hated what it was doing to his father…what it was doing to all of them.

A solitary owl called in the distance, its plaintive cry in keeping with Johnny's somber mood. It had been a long time since he'd sought refuge in the emptiness of night. Not since those first few unsettled months at Lancer had he felt the need to get away to get things straight in his head.

He'd not known whether to stay or go then, his old life had called to him, but his new life already had him in its grips! He didn't understand how an old man, a dandy and a slip of a gal could come to mean something to him so quickly! Still harder to understand was the fact they felt something for him! But he'd finally surrendered to his feelings, succumbed to theirs and let himself become part of a family.

Life had been good; he'd forgotten what loneliness was or had done until today! A great void had opened up between him and his brother…his best friend and he couldn't talk to his father, well he could he just didn't want to weigh his Old Man down with any more worries, that wouldn't be fair. Yes, he felt so very lonely tonight.

He knew something had happened in the doctor's office; something had passed between his brother and father, something that had caused the older man to age and the younger man to erect a barrier between himself and his family. A month ago Johnny would have demanded he be told what was going on, and he'd have moved heaven and earth to put whatever was wrong right again. Today he didn't think he should interfere, truth be told he was scared to talk to his brother certain it would only lead to an argument, during which something unforgivable might be said, something they couldn't take back and forever be resented for. No, it was better he keep his distance too; maybe things would sort themselves out given time and plenty of space? He would cling tenaciously to that hope.

It was getting late, the ranch hands had now fallen silent, everyone himself included had an early start tomorrow. Johnny told himself to go to bed, that tonight his sleep would be free of nightmares. If only that were true! Stark, horrifying images haunted his dreams; a beast from hell itself, his brother's broken body and a set of pain filled eyes that coldly accused and blatantly resented him. It was the same dream over and over and each time he'd wake up lathered with sweat, his pulse racing, his breathing ragged and painful. Still he could wake up from his nightmare, Scott never would!

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Sleep was proving elusive. His side ached, the operation site still quite tender, as for his lower back he had some sensation there, soreness akin to bruising but below that nothing, nothing at all!

Sam hadn't wanted him out of bed yet, insisting he could do more harm than good to his already damaged spine. He'd snorted at that, what further damage was there to do? His father had had his misgivings too but when he'd threatened to get into the wheeled chair unaided the older man had relented and helped ease him into it. Two days later after suffering no ill effects the doctor had decided he could go home. Home! Yes Lancer was home, it always would be, he just couldn't live here anymore.

Moonlight fell across the nightstand where a book, lamp and a bell had been thoughtfully placed. Murdoch had given him the bell to ring should he need anything. The very same bell Jelly had driven them all mad with when he'd feigned injury. The old rascal had waited until the household was asleep and then he'd sneaked out undercover of darkness, traipsing a couple of miles to check up on his boys. He'd been found out of course, the truth always came to light whether it be hidden for the best or the worst of reasons. He was hiding the truth too, had even given it a façade albeit a flimsy one.

He was so disappointed in himself, ashamed of his actions; he just couldn't seem to control his emotions or his temper. He was unbelievably angry with everything and everyone, his brother had taken the brunt of the abuse and he hated himself for allowing that to happen. His father would only take so much and then he would turn on him, quite rightfully cutting him down to size and putting him in his place. Johnny was an easier target, a willing punching bag; yet he would have been as tough on him as his father was if he wasn't carrying so much guilt around with him.

Scott knew damn well he was adding to that guilt so why in Gods name did he keep on doing it? He loved his brother, his brother loved him…was that it? Was he trying to drive a wedge between them? That would certainly make it a lot easier to leave and he was determined to do just that!

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Johnny was surprised to find his father still up, something had to be troubling him and he had a good idea what it was. He sauntered over to the couch and looked down into the weary face. "Ya ready to turn in?"

"Almost!" Murdoch replied forcing a smile.

The brunet hovered over his father, not wanting to leave him alone but at the same time sensing it was what Murdoch wanted. Taking a step towards the door he smiled back "Goodnight."

"Goodnight son."

Johnny had almost reached the hallway when his father called his name; he turned around "Yeah?"

Murdoch shrugged "Oh nothing, go onto bed son…"

"Why'd ya always do that Old Man?" Johnny snarled stomping back to stand before his father.

"Do what?" The patriarch asked truly having no idea what he'd done to make his son so angry.

"Shut me out!"

"Shut you out!" Murdoch lurched to his feet forcing his younger son to take a step backwards. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well…" Johnny searched frantically for the words to explain "Ya start ta tell me something then ya clam up like you've decided I'm not worth tellin'!"

"I do not!" Murdoch protested but at the same time realizing it might be how it looked to his so very sensitive son, he reached out and gripped his boys shoulders, squeezing them reassuringly "Johnny…I…I don't mean to son its just…well I'm so bad at…at expressing myself. I say the wrong thing so easily…I don't want to hurt you but I inevitable do so I end up taking the easy way out…by saying nothing!"

Johnny hung his head regretting his outburst he hadn't meant it, he'd seen through his father a long time ago, he knew what made him tick. He'd overreacted and he owed the older man an apology. "Sorry…"

"No, I'm sorry son, I…can we talk?"

"Standing up or sitting down?" Johnny grinned trying to ease the tension. It had the desired effect, the older man chuckled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders steering him towards the couch where they sat down next to each other.

"I'm not handling the situation with Scott very well!" Murdoch stated seriously.

"You're doin a damn sight better than me." Johnny exclaimed.

"That's not true. We're both just muddling through but considering the circumstances I honestly think it's all we can do. Your brother would try the patience of a saint but we have to give him time to work through his anger, I'm sure the Scott we know will come out the other side."

"It's hard…he's pushing me away Murdoch!"

"I know, he's impossible to reach just now, he's even thinking of returning to Boston…"

"Boston!" Johnny's face contorted in disbelief "No, no he can't, he wouldn't…"

"He was all set to make the arrangements this morning…"

"But you talked him out of it?"

"For now but…" Murdoch shrugged he couldn't offer his younger son any guarantees.

Johnny leapt to his feet and made for the door his father quickly following.

"Johnny! Where are you going?"

"To speak to him! To knock some sense into him if I have to!"

TBC

Molly


	9. Chapter 9

Broken

Chapter 9

The bedroom door crashed open, startling Scott out of his reverie; he pushed himself up onto his elbows staring over at the figure illuminated by the moonlight "Johnny! What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Yeah! You! You're what's wrong brother!"

"John!" Murdoch warned as he followed his irate son into the room "Please Son, not now! It's not the time to…"

"Why not now?" The brunet asked as he stomped over to the nightstand. Taking a match from his pocket, he struck it against his boot then lit the oil lamp. With a violent flick of the wrist, he extinguished the match then rounded on his brother "You're wrong old man, now's as good a time as any!"

"What's this about?" Scott demanded

"Boston!"

Glowering accusingly up at his father, the blond Lancer then turned his attention back to his sibling "What about Boston?"

"You're thinking of running back there..."

"Running!" The blond guffawed then gestured to the wheeled chair "I'm not likely to be running anywhere, now am I?"

"You don't need legs to do the kind of running I'm talking about" Johnny yelled shrugging off his father's restraining hand.

"Oh you mean the kind of running YOU do when things get a little tough around here!" Scott bellowed back, his eyes flashing angrily.

"Yeah that kind!" Johnny glared at his sibling. "We both know it ain't the answer!"

"John! Scott please!" Murdoch pleaded as he moved to stand between the two younger men.

Side stepping his father Johnny continued, "You don't belong there…"

"Who are you to tell me where I belong?" Scott thundered back, his face reddening with rage." I grew up there, spent almost all my life there; it was home to me for twenty -five years.

"Only because of an old mans lies and deceit…"

"How dare you! You know nothing about it. My grandfather did what he thought was best for me…"

"He did what he thought was best for himself and to put one over on a man he detested! He deceived you; he let you believe the cruelest of lies for twenty-five years…"

"Like your mother did!" Scott spat bitterly, "She lied to you too and because of her lies you grew up homeless, you were forced to steal and…and…" The blond somehow managed to swallow the word he'd been about to use moving on quickly to make his point "…but you've forgiven her, moved on! Am I not allowed to do the same?"

"Stealing and what? What were you going to say Scott? "Killing? Go on say it…"

"STOP IT" Murdoch yelled horrified by the exchange. "This isn't doing any good…"

"It's clearing the air…" Johnny snarled "…and it's certainly in need of that!" Eyes now locked on his father the youngest Lancer pointed an accusing finger in his brother's direction "What else is he holding back? What else hasn't he been able to say to me?"

Before his father could speak, Scott directed his anger back at his brother.

"What would you like me to say to you? What is it you expect to hear? Your insecurities have brought you in here! You need to deal with your problems little brother, before you dare to question mine!

"My insecurities!" Johnny's attention was again centered on his brother "You're the one wanting to run home to granddaddy…"

"John!" Murdoch grabbed his younger son by his arms and forced him backwards towards the door "That's enough!"

"Get your hands off me old man…"

"OUT NOW!" Murdoch's voice soared louder than ever before, jolting the brunet to his senses.

Holding his father's murderous gaze momentarily, Johnny finally turned away and stormed from the room.

The patriarch watched his youngest boy disappear through the door then whirled around to face his older son, trying desperately to rein in his temper. As he opened his mouth to make his feelings known, he was stunned by Scott's next comment.

"I don't want him in here again! You tell him to stay away from me!"

JMLJMLJMLJML

He had no idea where he was going! All he did know was that he didn't want to stay another minute under the same roof as his brother! Half brother he reminded himself, taking some comfort from that very fact. No, Dios he knew he didn't mean that. Scott was…well, damn it!

Throwing the saddle up on Barranca's back, he fumbled with the cinch, his trembling fingers hindering him in his efforts to escape. He cursed loudly, his voice echoing around the otherwise silent barn. Incensed by the argument with his brother, his usually acute senses failed him, and he was unaware of his father's presence until the older man spoke.

"Running Johnny?"

"Go to hell!" The brunet barked. Murdoch was on very dangerous ground.

"I'm beginning to think I'm already there!" Murdoch replied wearily, walking steadily towards his son.

The response from his father was so soft, as if to say the words to be heard would wake Murdoch from a dream, a horrible dream. Still, Johnny heard the sorrow and anguish in his father's voice and as he turned around he stared hard at his father deciding he didn't like what he saw. The older man looked pale, drawn, sickly even. His shoulders were slumped in total dejection. The brunet's rage began to subside, but he couldn't quite trust himself to speak just yet, and so just stood there holding his father's gaze.

"Come back inside son please. I don't want to have to spend the night worrying about you too."

"You don't need to worry about me." Johnny insisted.

"Well I do!" Murdoch snapped moving a step closer to his younger son "It's what fathers do…" the patriarch paused then continued in a despondent tone "…especially when their sons give them cause!"

Johnny took a deep breath and stepped away from Murdoch.

"I need to calm down…"

"I know, we all do, and your room is as good a place as any!" Murdoch replied, hoping his son would listen to him, to his voice. He knew this boy now, and he knew that sometimes all Johnny needed was a calm, reasonable voice to help him back-down from whatever precipice he was teetering on. Scott had taught him that.

Johnny dropped his gaze to the floor as he pondered on his father's words, he had wanted to get in the saddle and ride out his anger, its what he usually did when something had him all fired up. He'd never stopped to think how it might cause concern to his loved ones but then that was his trouble, he never stopped to think before he did anything, he acted on impulse. Well he'd caused enough grief already with such actions. He met his father's gaze "Alright I'll be in just as soon as I've seen to Barranca"

JMLJMLJMLJMLJML

He had finally stopped shaking, his rage having ebbed into disgust. Disgust with himself! He had lost control yet again! There was simply no excuse for his behaviour. Scott could now, as some ability to reason had returned, understand Johnny's anger, and he knew he would have felt the very same way if the situation had been reversed.

All he had needed to do was respond calmly to Johnny's anger; that was what he would have done before his accident. The event had changed him and certainly not for the better. He was impatient, irritable, thoughtless... and growing more and more mean-mouthed by the day!

His words had stung his brother; he had seen the hurt flash in the younger man's eyes. Mercifully, Murdoch had stopped the situation from deteriorating any further; the older man visibly shocked by what he had heard pass between his two sons. His father had not escaped his wrath though; Scott had spat bitterly in his direction too, when Murdoch had turned to him just as Johnny left his room. Murdoch had stared back at him, briefly pondering his response before quietly stating, "I know you don't mean that Son." With that said, he too had left the room.

"Yes I do!" Scott had snarled after his father, the words echoing around him, falling only upon his ears. He had then snatched the book from the nightstand and hurled it across the room! It had hit the wall with a satisfying thud, but not nearly as satisfying, he had decided then, as it would have been to physically hit someone if they had come close enough to him?

Shaking his head as he laid back down onto the pillows, he couldn't believe that he had become such a hateful, volatile person.

The ugliness of it all had reinforced his decision to leave. Better, he hurt them that way, than erode what was between them, with his increasing bitterness.

First thing tomorrow, he would write to his grandfather. Quite how he would explain his circumstances, he did not know, but explain he must. Surely, the older man would welcome him back with open arms. No doubt gloat a little over Murdoch's inability to hold onto his son. But Scott knew Harlan Garret's victory would be a hollow one, for what exactly would he now be gaining… merely a shadow of the man, neither use nor ornament.

TBC

Molly


	10. Chapter 10

Readers, please note a warning is being posted that the content of this chapter contains some graphic descriptions, which you may find offensive. Further, there is some language contained herein, which while I deemed necessary to the story, could also be considered offensive. I did not write this to offend, but rather to depict in my view the difficulties of facing a life-changing disability. Molly

Sincere thanks to my inspirational beta, Con.

Thanks also to Kathy W for her invaluable advice.

Broken

Chapter 10

Scott had been awake for quite some time; had in fact been awake for much of the night. Although his body had been weary, his mind had proved a hive of activity, endlessly churning over the hateful argument he had had with his brother and the decision he had made.

Murdoch had come into the room at some unearthly hour; the older man's rest now regularly disturbed by the need to provide round the clock care to his incapacitated son. Scott needed to be repositioned during the night and would continue to do so until he was physically strong enough to do so himself. It had taken only a few minutes to settle him on his side, the huge hands surprisingly gentle and adept.

The blond had politely thanked his father, closing his eyes immediately making it clear he was not prepared to enter into a conversation. Murdoch had lingered beside his bed, his concern evident; he had straightened the disheveled covers, and at one point let his hand rest briefly on Scott's shoulder. That simple gesture had stirred up some unwelcome emotions. His grandfather had never once come into his room at night, not even when he had been ill. A Nanny had been paid to do that.

Yes, Harlan Garret had been a remote figure throughout his childhood, present only on high days and holidays. His fifth birthday had been one such occasion. It was the first birthday party he had had, and he still remembered it, albeit vaguely. His father had been there that day too. Not that Scott had any recollection of their first ever meeting, he had only learnt about the visit upon coming to Lancer. To think he had been so close, so close to being…claimed and to being loved; loved like a child should be loved.

He had had everything money could buy in Boston, except there had been no open displays of affection, not on his grandfather's part, nor from anyone else for that matter. No, physical contact had been a polite handshake, used to both greet and to say goodbye.

Now with his decision, he would be going back to that, to the formality, to the remoteness. It would work there. He could live there; or rather he could function there. Emotions would not get in the way in Boston. Not like they did here anyway; no his emotional outbreaks would simply not be tolerated. If Scott had learned any thing well over his years of growing up in Boston, it had been how to refrain from letting his emotions, his feelings come to light.

Taking a deep breath, Scott tried to shift himself on the bed. Rolling from his side onto his back was not so difficult, he could now manage it with a little concentration and a lot of effort, but reversing the process was still something he needed to master.

The hacienda was slowly coming to life around him, its occupants beginning to stir. The distant clatter of pots and pans told him Maria was already busy in the kitchen. He was usually up and about himself by now. Washing, shaving, dressing…preparing for the demands of the working day. Not today though. Not ever again!

Scott now accepted he would never walk again. His legs were now nothing more than a set of useless appendages, thus making him a useless appendage where the ranch was concerned…where life itself was concerned.

Sam's diagnosis had been confirmed five days ago. The second opinion coming from Dr Edward Barns, a balding, stick thin physician who resided and practiced medicine in Merced. Dr Jenkins knew that Barns had a great deal of experience in the field of spinal injuries from his work at Johns Hopkins before he had decided to come west with his family. Sam had wired him and the middle aged doctor had responded quickly to his request to visit.

Scott had been thoroughly examined, and then after a moment of silent deliberation a grave faced Dr Barns had gone on to deliver the same verdict Sam had; so shattering all hope Scott had left of making a complete recovery.

Sam Jenkins had not wasted anytime in moving things on. After giving Scott a few moments, he brought Murdoch and Johnny into the room and quickly initiated a discussion on the care Scott would need. Between them, both doctors had detailed and explained the long-term effects of his paralysis, the various complications he was at risk of developing, and the measures that needed to be taken to prevent them.

He would be prone to infection, pressure sores, joint contractures, muscle wasting…the list had seemed endless, and the care regimented and unbelievably time consuming. And now as he lay in his bed listening to the ranch come to life without him, he asked himself, just who would be providing that care, day in day out for the unforeseeable future? The question was easily answered, if he stayed here his family of course!

No. It was just too much to ask, too much to expect, and he had no intention of imposing such demands upon them. But he had no such qualms about the Boston household. Salaried, they would be handsomely paid for such an unpleasant and arduous workload.

Scott decided to take breakfast in his room; it would be the easiest thing to do. Sam was coming today, to check on his progress; best he stay where Sam could examine him with the minimum of upheaval.

Hopefully his father would come in soon, help him to do what was necessary, what he could no longer do himself. Of course, he would apologise for last night's shameful display. Hopefully his sibling would grant him the opportunity to apologise to him too. Then he would tell them both of his decision; tell them that nothing they said would change his mind.

The floorboards creaked outside his bedroom door and Scott inhaled deeply, preparing himself for what was about to take place. He had expected to see his father and so was somewhat shocked to see his sibling walk into the room.

"Morning Scott."

There was no trace of anger or resentment in Johnny's voice, only warmth, that same warmth was evident in his eyes, along with a trace of wariness.

"Good morning." Scott replied quietly. He was never usually at a loss for words, but right at that moment he found himself unsure of what to say, of how best to express his regret. What the hell was wrong with him? It was his legs that were paralysed not his mind or his tongue! He held his brother's expectant gaze, relieved when the younger man finally broke the silence.

"You ready to get up?"

"Yes." The blond responded, then watched his brother remove a shirt and a pair of pants from his dresser drawer, the brunet then holding them up for his approval. Scott nodded, not that it mattered what he wore anymore, his attire was the last thing anyone would notice about him now. They would not see past the wheeled chair he was now to reside in.

Setting the neatly pressed clothes on the bottom of Scott's bed, Johnny gestured towards the door "I'll get the hot water"

Scott watched his brother leave the room, cursing himself for letting the very opportunity he'd so wanted slip through his fingers. With just a little effort on his part he could have made things right between the two of them. Johnny had made the first move, a gesture he had truly not deserved. Scott had watched the wariness in his brother's eyes turn to disappointment, his efforts to heal the rift seemingly going unreciprocated.

But what would be the point? He was leaving, so why offer false hope of things ever being the same between them again. It wouldn't be fair.

JMLJMLJML

Murdoch had held his breath as he had watched his younger son enter Scott's room. It had taken all his willpower to stop himself from following. After last night's parting comment from his elder son, he feared the young man's reaction. Still he knew he had to give them some time alone, hoping against hope that they would put right what had gone so horribly wrong the night before.

He had remained at the end of the hallway, ready to intervene should there be a repeat performance. But there were no raised voices and just as the patriarch was starting to believe things were going well on the other side of the door, it had opened and a forlorn looking Johnny had stepped through it.

The young man had met his father's eyes and shrugged. Moving past him into the kitchen, checking the water heating on the stove, Johnny then sat down at the table.

With a heavy heart, Murdoch had joined him, "What happened in there?"

"Nothing!"

"John?"

"Nothing…he didn't seem to want to talk let alone argue." Johnny explained in a despondent tone, "I wish I knew what was going on in his head. I'd rather him yell at me than close himself off like that."

Murdoch's brow furrowed evidence of his deepening concern, "Maybe Sam can tell us where we're going wrong?"

Snorting Johnny eyed his father "Yeah well I sure as hell ain't put a foot right yet."

"That's not true. You going in there just now can't have been easy, but it was the right thing to do. I'm proud of you Johnny."

The unexpected praise sent a rush of colour to the youngest Lancer's cheeks, at the same time evoking a great urge to explain his actions to his father.

"I don't like the way things are between us now. It scares me. I'd do anything to…to put it right."

"I know. I'm scared too John, and it's also fear that's making your brother act the way he does. The world he now finds himself in must seem quite daunting a place. But we both know he's not lacking in courage, he'll fight back. We just have to give him time, and let him know we're not going anywhere.

JMLJMLJML

Scott stared at his bedroom door, beginning to wonder if his brother was actually going to return. The younger man was supposedly fetching the water needed to bathe him, but ten or so minutes later, there was still no sign of him. Maybe he wouldn't, maybe he had given up on him. He couldn't quite believe that of Johnny, but then again he had made his brother's life hell these last few weeks, and had just minutes ago, given him the cold shoulder.

He contemplated ringing the bell but decided against it. He was in desperate need of attention but they all had so much to do. Expecting them to drop everything just to attend to him was thoughtless, not to mention impractical. He would just have to wait and wait patiently, for he had made a promise to himself during the night. There would be no more temper tantrums, no more hurtful words, just heartfelt respect and gratitude. His family deserved that at the very least.

So deep in thought was he that when the door finally did open he started. His father greeted him warmly just as Johnny had done, both men equally as forgiving of his moods. His brother had followed their father into the room, bringing the hot water as promised in readiness to begin his new daily routine.

Resigned to what was to come, Scott threw back his covers and began tugging up his nightshirt so allowing his father unrestricted access to the first unpleasant task of the day. Again, the older man surprised him with his proficiency, making short work of the process of removing and disposing of the strategically placed and much detested protective cloth he now wore. He stared up at the ceiling as his father went on to clean him up. That done, he met his fathers gaze and offered him his thanks.

Time then for yet another humiliating experience! Sam had said that as he regained his strength he would also regain some independence, some perhaps, but not nearly enough. Right now he needed help with almost everything! He stared coldly at the chair in the corner of the room. It wasn't just any chair, no, it had a purpose, that purpose disguised by its fretwork back, box seat and turned legs. It was of fairly elegant design, Scott supposed, but the design did not spare his dignity.

His brother was now carrying the offending object towards the bed, seconds later two sets of willing arms were easing him out of the bed and onto it. He had a Dr Karl Crede to thank for the degrading ritual that was about to be performed and he was to repeat these procedures at regular intervals, hopefully in time it would prevent any unfortunate mishaps! Mishaps indeed, why didn't Sam just call a spade a spade and say it would hopefully stop him shitting and pissing in his pants all the time!

Once he had hopefully obliged, he was to take a bath, the warm water helping to soothe his muscles. For now, they would use the shallow tub his brother had carried into the room, until he was stronger and could be placed in a regular tub. With both, he would need to be lifted in and out. More work for his father and brother.

After the bath, he would have to be dressed, settled in his chair and no, it still wasn't finished. He was to exercise all limbs, even the two useless ones. He needed to strengthen his upper body to be able to learn to do more for himself, and in order to prevent his legs from wasting and developing blood clots, it would be necessary for his brother or father to move them for him! A short morning exercise would be done with him in the chair; a longer exercise in the evening once he was back in bed. All this was extremely important according to Sam and Dr. Barns. They both had made it clear such a complication could prove fatal…maybe…no God forgive him, he should not be thinking that way!

TBC

Molly


	11. Chapter 11

Sincere thanks to my inspirational beta, Con

Thanks also to Kathy W for her invaluable advice.

Broken

Chapter 11

He was exhausted, all his energy spent, and all he had accomplished so far was to move from his bed to his chair. It had been a long and involved process; albeit a necessary one, but still how he resented it. It had taken almost two hours, time he knew his father and brother could not spare.

Clean, shaven and dressed, he now sat in his wheeled chair, a sheep's pelt placed beneath him to lessen the pressure and friction on his now prone to breakdown skin. While he sat so idly, his family remained busy, clearing away the items used to ensure his comfort. Scott could only look on, feeling utterly useless.

They made it all look so effortless. If there had been any revulsion by what they had had to do for him that morning, they had hidden it well. His father and brother had chatted away as if last night had never happened. As much as he'd wanted to apologise, he'd been determined to wait until he had a little dignity on his side, believing an apology delivered from his chair carried more weight than one made when one of them was wiping his backside!

His room was fast resuming its orderly appearance, his bed now neatly made, his window thrown open to allow in the morning breeze. Sunlight streamed in uninvited, casting a cheery glow where earlier gloom had reigned. He felt strangely calm, something he had not felt since learning his fate. Now! He had to do it now.

"Johnny, Murdoch, please, sit down. I have something to say to you both."

Both men stopped what they were doing. Glancing at each other, they then sat down side by side on the blond's bed. Each man eyed him expectantly, their faces suddenly pinched, taught with worry over what they were about to hear.

Scott stared back, allowing his feelings to surge to the fore, as they needed expressing not burying. He loved these two men, knew he was incredibly lucky to have them in his life. Unfortunately, however, he no longer belonged in theirs. But it was vitally important for them to know and accept that he wasn't rejecting them; they were and always would be, the two most important people in his life.

"First, the apology I owe you both, especially you Johnny. I said some terrible things last night, unforgivable things, and yet you have clearly forgiven me. You know I didn't mean what I said, and that I would never hurt you intentionally. So you've set last night aside, placed it on the forgive and forget pile, which by now must be about ready to teeter over where I'm concerned…"

Scott paused and forced a small smile "It says something doesn't it, about how far we've come? What we mean to each other. How we feel about each other. I love you both and I know you love me, even though I've not been very easy to love or even like recently.

"I don't even like myself, not the way I am, and I don't mean the paralysis. Yes, I hate that too, everything about it in fact, but I hate the bitterness I feel even more. I can't see it lessening, not when I'm surrounded by reminders of what I can no longer do, reminders of the man I no longer am." He stopped for a moment, glancing down at his legs, before quickly looking back at his father and brother and continuing.

"That's why I can't stay here. I have to move on and to do that I have to move away, back to Boston. I'm certain I can lead a more productive life there, a life I can be happy with." Certain? No, Scott was no such thing, far from it in fact, not under that roof, and certainly not with the perfectionist who lived there. Pushing away those thoughts, he pressed on. "It's a lot to ask I know but I'd like your understanding and more importantly your blessing."

Johnny swallowed his protest, knowing it would do no good. Not that he had given up hope of his brother changing his mind. The brunet knew Scott better than anyone, and had seen a flicker of doubt in the blue eyes; he knew Scott wasn't being completely honest with them.

"I don't think you've thought this through Son…" Murdoch began only for Scott to hold up his hand, a silent plea to his father to listen.

"I promise you I have Sir. It is all I have thought about since Dr Barns' visit. It's partly why I've been so hard to live with. It's probably the most important decision I've ever had to make and I now know it to be the right one. Nothing you say will alter my decision, so please, don't make this more difficult than it has to be."

JMLJMLJMLJML

The grim faced doctor set his bag down on Murdoch's desk and eyed his old friend questioningly "Scott tells me he's returning to Boston!"

"Yes" Murdoch replied snapping shut the ledger he had been working on.

"And you agree with that decision?"

"I most certainly do not!" The rancher snarled back as he lurched to his feet. "It's the last thing I want him to do. But he's got it into his head that it's the best thing for him, that it's the only option he has."

Shaking his head, Murdoch turned and walked towards the large window behind his desk. Gazing out at the great expanse that was Lancer, he sighed and in a voice laden with sadness continued, "I'm going to lose that boy again, Sam."

"You haven't lost him yet!" Sam declared walking over to stand alongside the younger man.

"It's just a matter of time! He doesn't believe there's a future here for him any more, and I don't know how to convince him that there is, albeit a very different one to what he'd once envisioned."

"So you're not even going to try?"

Rounding on the smaller man Murdoch countered, "I'd lock him in his room if I thought it was the right thing to do!"

Sam ignored his friend's angry outburst asking calmly "So you do think he'd be better off in Boston?"

Throwing up his hands and shrugging, unconsciously emphasising the uncertainty he felt, Murdoch answered, "I honestly don't know! He very well could be and if that is the case how can I stand in his way? I want what's best for him Sam, and if that means letting him go then…then isn't that what I should do?"

"But you're not convinced and from what I can gather neither is he!"

"What do you mean? What has he said?" The rancher demanded, grasping at what appeared to be a faint but definite glimmer of hope.

"Oh no doubt the exact same things he's said to you, BUT his guard was down when he spoke to me. He wasn't trying to convince me that his heart was in the decision. I think that boy is letting his head overrule his heart. Lying to himself and deceiving you in the process! He's doing what he thinks is best for all of you"

"What's best for all of us? How can his leaving be for the best?" Murdoch asked mystified by the doctor's words.

"Right now he considers himself a burden to you all…"

"He's no such thing!" The taller man spluttered.

"Of course he's not." Sam readily agreed. "But that is how he sees himself and with good reason, as far as he is concerned. So much has to be done for him. His independence has been taken away from him…"

"But only in the short term..."

"Yes exactly! We need to get that message through to him, but I don't believe he will be very receptive until he starts doing more for himself, regaining some independence. It will take a little while to get him to that point. Anyway, I've told him I don't want him making such an arduous journey for at least another month, and he's agreed, so time is on your side Murdoch. Time is a valuable ally, one you must make use of. You have a month to open those blinkered eyes of his. It won't be easy, he's at least as stubborn as his sire, but I'm certain this is a battle you can win."

The patriarch stared back at his oldest friend, renewed hope shining in his eyes "I won't let him go without a fight, and neither will Johnny. You're right Sam, this is a battle we can and will win!"

JMLJMLJMLJML

Father and son sat despondently by the kitchen table, the sandwiches and coffee prepared for them by Maria remained untouched. The reason for their dark mood lay upon the table. It certainly looked innocent enough, but both knew the envelope's contents could lead to the disintegration of their family. The addressee, a man they disliked and were both highly suspicious of, the neatly written name leapt off the paper at them, seemingly mocking them.

"You know that letter could get lost!" Johnny stared into his coffee deliberately avoiding eye contact with his father.

"Well it wouldn't be the first missive to go astray!"

The dark head snapped up, would his father really consider such a ploy? One look at the older man's stern face told Johnny the idea had been dismissed. He quickly averted his gaze again, suddenly a little ashamed for having such an underhanded thought, but still he was eager to explain the reasoning behind it "I just thought it would give Scott a little more time to come to his senses."

"As much as the idea appeals to me John, I don't think we should resort to such tactics. It could easily backfire on us."

The youngest Lancer shrugged "Well I ain't posting it!" He would play no part in Scott's decision to leave. Johnny knew how childish he had sounded, but he didn't care. Violently stabbing at the letter with his index finger he added a vehement "I just don't trust that old coot to do right by Scott!"

Murdoch heaved a sigh "Neither do I"

Silence fell between the two men both lost again in their own troubled thoughts. Suddenly a muffled thud shook them out of their reveries.

"Scott?" Johnny breathed in alarm, as he jumped to his feet, and ran from the room.

Murdoch ran after his younger son, both charging headlong down the hallway to the blond Lancer's room.

A string of expletives greeted them, along with a heart stopping sight. Scott lay on the floor, his wheeled chair toppled over on top of him. Both men hurried to his side words of concern spilling from their lips.

"I'm alright!" Scott snapped, "Stop fussing!"

"We're not fussing!" Murdoch retorted tossing aside the upturned chair.

"What happened?" Johnny demanded as he helped his brother to sit upright.

"I thought I could get myself onto the bed, but apparently I thought wrong…"

"Why didn't you ring the God damned bell?" Johnny asked angrily

"Because Brother, I wanted to do something for myself, without needing or asking for anyone's help!" Scott replied as he slapped his brother's hands away.

Realizing this was something they should really be encouraging, Murdoch shot his younger son a warning look and forced some calm into his voice. "Well until you've mastered the manoeuvre, can I suggest you only attempt it when one of us is present?"

Scott nodded sheepishly. He had been foolish to try he supposed, as he still lacked the strength he needed in his upper body. Still, he had almost made it proving to himself it was possible!

TBC

Molly


	12. Chapter 12

Sincere thanks to my inspirational beta, Con

Broken

Chapter 12

Night had wrapped itself around the hacienda, a waning moon highlighting the empty corral and the solitary figure now exiting the barn.

Jelly watched from the shadows, noting with dismay the young man's bowed head and slumped shoulders, the familiar cocky stride was strikingly absent, in its place a weary gait. The aging handyman's heart ached for his friend, for the burden he seemed determined to carry.

He'd seen precious little of Johnny these past few weeks. He'd had virtually no opportunity to talk to him, what with the boy helping care for his injured brother, and working what hours he could fit in in-between. Jelly too had been busy, with all three of the Lancer men virtually housebound, he and Cipriano had been shouldering more and more responsibility, where running the ranch was concerned. Neither man minded of course, both taking pride in the fact they were trusted and respected enough to be handed the reins. Things were running smoothly too, so far. They hadn't had to trouble the Boss with anything, and hopefully they wouldn't have to anytime soon, as the rancher had so much on his plate as it was.

Shivering in the cool night air Jelly fought the urge to move indoors, into the warmth and comfort of his room, where his bed impatiently called to him. His old bones were aching something rotten tonight and his eyes burned with fatigue. Still, he knew he wouldn't rest until he'd spoken to the desolate looking form, slowly approaching the front door.

Stepping into the moonlight Jelly ambled towards his friend. Forcing some cheer into his voice, he called out "Evenin'"

"Evenin' Jelly." A small smile accompanied the boy's greeting, but it lingered only fleetingly on his lips. Gloom quickly settling on the handsome face. Then, as the two men came face to face, Johnny added a concerned "You ok?"

"Got me a problem!" Jelly declared solemnly.

Johnny's brow furrowed "You want to talk about it?"

"Ya think it would help?"

"Yeah! Sure I do Jelly." Gesturing towards the porch, Johnny then wrapped an arm around the smaller man steering him towards a bench, "It helps to get things off your chest, ain't you always telling me that?"

Seated, Jelly gazed sideways into a set of expectant eyes "Well go on then, git it off yer chest!"

"Me?" Puzzlement settled on the brunets face.

Glancing theatrically around the empty night, Jelly stated, "Well I can't see anyone else around here with a face as sour as week old milk!"

Johnny's eyes flashed in consternation. It seemed 'he' was what was weighing so heavily on his friend's mind! Jelly had set a trap and he'd walked right into it. The old man didn't play fair! Well, he was in no mood to talk about himself, "Jelly, I'm tired…"

"And feelin' about as low as a man can git ain't ya?"

The dark haired man bowed his head, but there was no hiding the truth and so Johnny nodded. He had known misery before, umpteen times; black moods he'd found almost impossible to shake off. Life had dealt him many a blow, some knocking him to his knees. Still, he'd always found a way through, life never quite as bad as it had seemed at the time. But now life had again lost its sparkle. Each new day something to endure, rather than to enjoy. To make matters worse, that was also how his brother now appeared to view life, and Scott's despair compounded his own, making him more heartsick than he had ever been before. He knew he couldn't change things. It was impossible to turn the clock back; but he just wished he could do something, anything to make it up to Scott, even in some small way.

Johnny raised his head to look at the old handyman. Before he could say anything, Jelly spoke.

"I knowed it! Ya gone and got yer spurs all tangled up over what happened to yer brother…"

"It's my fault Jelly." Johnny interrupted quietly.

"'peers ta me, the only one blamin' you is you!"

"Yeah well they've gotten so used to excusing the stupid things I do it's become a habit I guess!" The brunet spat bitterly.

"I thought they meant more to ya than that boy!" Disappointment echoed in the older mans voice.

"What do you mean by that?" Johnny demanded.

"All they've ever tried ta do is understand and support ya, it ain't right that ya should do them down fer that!"

"Sorry Jelly! I…I didn't mean…it just seems I'm forever sorry for something and they're forever having to forgive me!"

"Ya've done a lot of forgivin' too boy! The Boss he don't always taste his words fore he spits 'em out, and I know they've cut ya up a time or two…"

"That ain't the same thing Jelly!" Johnny snapped irritably, why couldn't the older man see that? "Scott ain't ever going to walk again because of me…"

"Not because of ya Johnny! A stallion broke his back, not ya!"

"A stallion 'I' was chasing…"

"Scott was chasin' him too, it was his choice, and he made it freely…"

"If I hadn't been there, he wouldn't have been there…" Exasperation rang in the young man's voice, why couldn't people see he was at fault here?

"A set of circumstances led ya both ta that point, ta Scott doin' what he did. Yer brother did somethin' mighty fine that day, somethin' special…somethin' he won't never regret! By lettin' what happened eat at ya like this, yer making what he did meaningless. Now, that ain't right and that's all yer have ta be sorry fer Johnny!" With a reassuring pat to his young friend's back, Jelly got stiffly to his feet and made his way inside.

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"I was just coming to look for you." Murdoch looked up from his book, eyeing his younger son with concern. "You said you wouldn't be long, is everything alright?"

"Yeah…no, not really!" Johnny admitted flopping down beside his father on the couch."

"John?"

Blowing out a shaky breath Johnny shrugged. He needed to talk to his father, but just wasn't sure what it was he wanted to say, so a little sheepishly he began to explain what was troubling him "It's just something Jelly said..."

"Ah!" The patriarch's eyes widened, certain a mystery was about to be solved. "Was it John 15:13?"

"What?" Johnny eyed his father, totally perplexed by the older man's question; he decided it best to just plough on "No, no nothing like that! He said…well he said I'm making what Scott did meaningless, by blaming myself."

Fighting down a sudden rush of indignation Murdoch slowly absorbed the words then looked across at his desk. The handyman had passed through the great room just ten minutes ago , eyeing him gravely and uttering something that had deeply puzzled him at the time…"John 15:13" But now putting it together with what his son was saying, he finally understood what Jelly was trying to tell him, or at least he thought he did!

"I'll be right back" The patriarch stood and strode purposefully towards what had suddenly drawn his attention. Pulling open the top drawer of his desk, he removed the large leather bound book that nestled there. Then turning on his heels, he moved swiftly back to sit beside his son.

Johnny knew what book it was and grew increasingly uncomfortable; surely the Old Man wasn't going to start reading to him from it now?

Flicking knowledgeably through the well-thumbed pages, Murdoch soon found what he was looking for. Setting the book in his sons reluctant hands, he pointed at a particular passage and gently urged, "Read it son"

The blue eyes stared at the page, at the mass of words gathered there, inexplicably scared of their significance. He read them silently to himself, but suddenly he felt the need to say the words aloud. In a voice as soft as an Angel's breath the words flowed hesitantly, "Greater love hath no man than this that a man…lay…lay down his life…"

Seeing that his son was struggling with some strong emotions, Murdoch clasped his arm and squeezed reassuringly

"You see John, your brother knew what he was doing that day, and that was his…his gift to you. So it's not something you should regret, but rather it's something you should respect and honour. However, to do that you must let go of the guilt. By no means is this a debt that needs repaying, but… by helping your brother to accept what has happened, and to enjoy life again, you are helping give back the life he was willing to give to protect you. Your gift to him. John?"

Johnny's gaze slowly met his father's, eyes unashamedly moist, a small smile played on his lips as he nodded his understanding.

TBC

Molly


	13. Chapter 13

Sincere thanks to my inspirational beta, Con.

Broken

Chapter 13

Murdoch eyed his younger son hopefully, only to be met with a shake of the head. Throwing down his pencil the rancher rose to his feet, and strode purposefully from behind his desk towards the door Johnny had just entered in through. The younger man quickly blocked the exit with his much smaller frame and demanded:

"Where are you going?"

The patriarch stopped abruptly; staring down at the younger man he gestured towards Scott's bedroom and thundered.

"He's not left that room since he came home!"

Johnny cringed at his father's tone, his ears ringing with its unexpected volume. Still he could understand the older man's concern and replied quietly.

"I know. But if you go in there now shouting, the odds are he'll only shout back…twice as loud!"

His gaze moving from his son to the doorway, Murdoch breathed out a weary sigh and nodded "You're right."

Relieved that a confrontation had been avoided, Johnny stepped past his father and moved to the centre of the room. His relief was short lived when his father threw open the door and strode into the hallway uttering a measured "I won't shout!"

Cursing the older man's wrong-headedness, Johnny hurried after him.

Upon entering Scott's room, the patriarch found his elder son gazing absently out through his window. It was fast becoming a regular pastime for the younger man, and one that was beginning to greatly trouble his father.

"Scott."

The blond turned his head and greeted his father with a barely audible "Sir?"

"I was hoping you would join your brother and me for dinner tonight. We haven't sat down as a family since…"

"I've already told Johnny no! If you don't mind Murdoch, I'd prefer to eat in here." Scott's gaze once again settled on the distant hills, and the sun that was beginning its descent.

Murdoch wasn't going to be dismissed so easily, and marched further into the room.

"I do mind. You've been home over two weeks, and you've spent every minute of that time in here!"

"Is there a law against that?" His oldest son replied without turning from the window.

The patriarch swallowed his indignant reply, eyeing his equally indignant son determinedly "Of course there isn't, but it's not exactly conducive to your recovery."

"Are you expecting me to suddenly sprout new legs if I'm wheeled through there?" The elder Lancer son said derisively as he turned and pointed towards the door.

"Don't be ridiculous Scott. You know what I mean…"

Johnny watched quietly from the sidelines. The two older men had been sparring verbally like this for the past two days. Murdoch had a very valid point of course. But Scott was stubbornly holding his ground, and it worried Johnny that his brother seemed to be slowly losing interest in all that surrounded him. How quickly things had gone sour again!

Just a week ago, Scott had seemed filled with enthusiasm. With hindsight Johnny now realised his sibling had been a little too over eager to do more for himself. The phrase 'walk before you run' sprung to Johnny's mind, only then serving to sicken him with its connotations. Scott had been bitterly disappointed every time he failed in such attempts. It now seemed the repeated failures had had a detrimental effect on his enthusiasm, because during the last couple of days he had made no attempts to help himself. Scott had not even wanted to shave that morning, declaring to his exasperated father that he 'might just grow a beard.'

Of course, Johnny knew their father wasn't taking such despondency very well; that and the fact Scott refused to leave his room worrying the older man to the extreme. They hadn't been able to ask Sam for his thoughts either, as the doctor's time had been almost totally consumed with a chickenpox epidemic, which had quickly swept through the valley.

"I'm being practical." Scott's voice shook Johnny from his thoughts.

Murdoch harrumphed "You're hiding yourself away in here and I don't like it…"

"Well that's just too bad, not that you will have to dislike it for much longer, as I'll be out of here soon enough!"

"And that's another mistake!"

"What is? Returning to Boston?"

"Yes! I know you'll regret it Scott…"

"Believe what you want I don't care…"

"Alright that's enough!" Johnny stepped between the two men. He hated arguing with either man, but surprisingly found listening to them argue with each other, was even more upsetting. The room fell silent, but only long enough for Murdoch to gather his thoughts.

Avoiding the chastising glare he knew would be in his younger son's eyes, he stared at his elder son "I expect to see you at the dinner table at seven o'clock." Turning on his heels, he swiftly left the room leaving Scott no opportunity to reply.

Johnny turned his gaze on his brother "You gonna be there?"

"What do you think?" The blond spat.

"Good. I'll see you then!" Johnny replied, waving off the protestations his brother attempted to make. As he stepped through the doorway, he looked over his shoulder and added "It's Maria's night off and Murdoch's cooking."

Scott stared after his brother. Did the younger man really think it mattered to him who was doing the damn cooking? Well it didn't! And he wouldn't be sitting at the table at seven either! How dare his father demand his presence! Why couldn't they both just leave him alone?

No, he hadn't left his room, but neither did he have any inclination to do so. Didn't they realise how difficult it was for him doing the least thing? Having people watch him struggle well, that just made it all the harder. At least in his room he had privacy, and he felt… what did he feel? Safe? Yes, he felt safe in here. Safe from pitying and curious eyes and people's cloying concern and overbearing good intentions! Yes, his father was right in that he was hiding in here, but quite honestly, he didn't give a damn what his father thought…no, that wasn't true. He respected his father and normally valued his opinion immensely. But in this instance, Murdoch had no idea what he was talking about! It wasn't his father who had to sit and vegetate while the world went on around him. No one could understand what that feeling was like until it happened to them.

He had been foolish to think he could ever be a part of that world again. He had tried so hard too, yet he was still as helpless as a baby. As he had so pointedly told his father just minutes ago, he would not have to put up with him for much longer, they would soon be well rid of the cripple.

His grandfather should have received the letter by now; at least he should have done if he was in Boston. His business took him all over the country, so it was possible he was still unaware of his grandson's accident. Scott could not help but wonder what the older man's reaction would be. What his first words to him might be. Maybe Grandfather would surprise him and show a so far, well-concealed side to him, a compassionate side. But then, that was not what he wanted let alone expected.

All he wanted was an alternative to what he had here. A place he could be without imposing on anyone's time or goodwill. There would be no one there to nag and push him, no one there to encourage him in useless pursuits. His father and brother were well meaning, of course they were, but they failed to grasp the fact he was and always would be a burden to them. They were putting their lives on hold just to help him in an impossible quest, and it was past time they realized that!

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Murdoch bad temperedly yanked the lid off the large stew pot and sniffed its simmering contents. The aroma made the patriarch's mouth water, and he found himself reaching for a spoon to sample a little taste. His ill mood now on the wane, he nodded his approval, pleased at least with his culinary efforts. Easing his self onto a kitchen chair, he breathed out a despondent sigh, and began to berate himself for once again crossing swords with his elder son. It was all he seemed to do these days, and he hated it!

'I don't care' the words Scott had so coldly uttered just minutes ago seared across his mind, and how they ate at the patriarch. He was certain the young man didn't care much about anything right now, and was beginning to sink into a depression, something Sam had warned him about. Once again he had failed his boy by letting it happen. But how could he have avoided it? What more could he have done? He didn't know. He just didn't have an answer to that question.

Murdoch knew that he and Johnny had been very patient in trying to coax Scott out of his room. That having failed, he was now resorting to bullying tactics. After two days of it, he now realized what a fool he was to even think it might work with his elder son. The young man was as stubborn as his brother was, perhaps even more so! They were, he knew, both chips off the old block. That knowledge usually filled him with a warm sense of pride, but the stubborn trait was not helping Scott one iota. It was quite simply working against him. If only he would plough it into assuming his rightful position in life. There was no reason he couldn't, as the boy possessed fine qualities. There was nothing Scott couldn't do if he put his mind to it. Sadly, it seemed his oldest son was giving up on himself. Well damn it! Murdoch knew he and Johnny would not give up, and neither would they let him.

As his younger son stepped into the room, Murdoch held up his hand "I know what you're going to say…I shouldn't have gone in there!"

Johnny could not help but grin despite the circumstances. His father was squirming like a child waiting for a telling off. In an even tone he replied, "No, I ain't thinking that at all. I'm thinking you did right, because pussy footing around him ain't helping, but getting tough might just work…"

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A little calmer now, Scott stared at the ornate timepiece, which graced his writing desk; its chinoiserie scenes capturing his attention as they had that long ago day in Boston. The blond let his mind wander back to that happier time. It had been late October; the sky leaden, the wind blowing incessantly, but the inclement weather had not marred the day. He had been escorting Julie around the city, as she had searched for a suitable gift for her father's birthday. Scott and his then fiancée had taken shelter from a particularly heavy deluge in a small but well stocked emporium. The blond had spotted the clock almost immediately. But Julie had not been as enamoured by its design as he, wrinkling up her pretty little nose to express her dislike of the object. He had been amused by her expression, and had laughed aloud, earning the couple some inquisitive looks from the more sedate customers.

Smiling or frowning Scott had always found the brunette disarmingly beautiful; but as much as he loved her, his heart had told him she wasn't the one. Yes, they could have been happy, but for how long? Thankfully, they had both realized that they were not suited for longevity, not that it made parting any easier! Seeing her again earlier this year he had felt a stirring of the old emotions. Holding her in his arms, the familiar warmth had seeped through him, his pulse racing, the yearning in his loins hard to suppress.

Of course, they had never been truly intimate. They had shared passionate clinches yes, gone a little too far at times, but never as far as either one would have liked. But women of Julie's upbringing didn't lie with a man until married. Believing a 'wedded before bedded' socialite was what all men of honour wanted waiting for them at the alter.

There had never been any shortage of willing women though, and he had bedded quite a few in his time, the respectable, and the not so respectable of course! He had a healthy libido, and saw nothing wrong in fulfilling his desires, as long as he kept it discrete. What of those desires now? That thought jolted Scott back to reality. He was no longer capable of the sex act…he could not make love, he couldn't please a woman! What woman would want him now?

Why on earth had he let himself dwell on this matter again? Hadn't he promised himself he wouldn't, because all it did was darken his mood and threaten to drag him down further into the bottomless mire, he seemed to now be sinking in. But then it wasn't just about sex or the lack of it, or rather his inability to perform. It went so much deeper than that, didn't it?

He had wanted to share his future with a woman who he loved, with all his heart. Someone who would cherish him equally. Someone who out of love would bear him children. He had so wanted a family of his own one-day, sons, daughters...now there was no hope of such blessings, and all he could do was mourn what he would never have.

Sam and Dr Barns had broached this delicate subject with him. They had not been able to offer him any reassurance about that bodily function. Quite simply they had not known for sure whether he was still capable of copulating or not. But Scott had been left feeling the consensus was that he was most probably impotent.

Focusing again on the hands of the clock, Scott watched the minute hand creep steadily around its face, edging ever closer to what would inevitably be another set-to with his father. His absence in the great room would of course, no matter his age, be seen as outright disobedience, so to an affront, and he did not want to offend his father. They had little time left together as it was without making it unpleasant too. Would it really be such an ordeal to spend an hour or so in there? After all, Maria would not be there to fuss over him, which made him feel as if he were a sick child, and it was very rare for anyone else to call as darkness fell upon the earth.

The elder Lancer son knew he should make the effort. Still it all seemed quite daunting. He had several doors to open and manoeuvre the chair through; and the damned thing was so cumbersome, designed to be pushed rather than self propelled. He wasn't sure he could get there under his own steam; but Scott knew there was only one way to find out!

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Murdoch had set the table and was now giving it the once over, making sure he'd forgotten nothing essential. Unlike the women folk, he kept the tableware to a minimum, an old habit borne out of a great dislike of clearing away such items and worse still, having to wash them up! Satisfied they were ready to dine, he eyed the large timepiece that stood by the French windows. It was almost seven; the grandfather clock about to announce the hour, but there was no sign of his elder son. Johnny though was hovering by the fireside, seemingly intent on keeping the log fire blazing. The patriarch knew the boy was really trying to keep his restlessness in check, finding any thing he could to keep his mind occupied by something other than what really wanted to be running through his thoughts: Would his brother make an appearance tonight or not?

As the familiar chimes rang out, Murdoch strode towards the kitchen where he wrapped a tea towel around the handle of the stew pot, and carefully lifted it off the stove. As he entered back into the great room, a noise from the hallway made his heart beat a little faster and he stared expectantly towards the door. The handle turned and then the door swung open, accompanied by a grunt of effort.

A set of wary blue eyes met his and Murdoch gestured to what he was holding.

"Beef stew, just like your grandmother used to make."

His elder son raised an inquisitive eyebrow which made Murdoch realize he'd not shared that snippet of information with his boy before; he would put that right tonight as they tucked into the hearty meal. Glancing in Johnny's direction he moved to the table, determined neither one of them would help Scott unless he was in desperate need of assistance. It wasn't going to be easy. Their earlier discussion in the kitchen on getting tough to hopefully push Scott in the right direction had seemed right at the time. But like so many things in life it was easier said than done. Especially if you had just turned from watching your own son struggling so much just to move his self through a door.

By the time Scott had reached the table, he was breathless and beads of perspiration were forming on his brow. As he'd expected the doors had proven to be the greatest obstacles, keeping them open while he wheeled himself through the just wide enough space, taking supreme effort not to mention concentration. He'd cursed aloud as the door from the hallway to the great room stubbornly refused to cooperate. He'd half expected his father or brother to offer to help, to come to him. But no, both seemed oblivious to his difficulties, instead seating themselves at the table, Johnny handing his father his empty bowl impatiently.

As his father set a steaming bowl of stew before him, Scott thanked him and realized that he had missed the shared mealtimes, and particularly the conversation that went on around the table. Helping himself to a chunk of bread, he found himself smiling. Johnny had obviously been given the task of cutting the loaf; the abnormally thick slices had on making their first appearance been christened 'doorsteps' by their amused father. Still they went well with the less spicy dishes his father served up, especially the meat and vegetable laden dish they were partaking of now.

The conversation was a little awkward at first, especially on his part, but once Murdoch had warmed up the atmosphere with an anecdote about their grandmother's cooking Scott began to relax a little. But talk inevitably turned to the sad events in the valley, and Murdoch informed the blond Lancer of his and Johnny's intention to attend the funeral the next day of the local schoolteacher, Maisy Clark, a charming and much loved member of the community who had tragically succumbed to the ravaging complications of chickenpox. The burial would take place in the small town where Maisy had been born; it was a two hour ride from Green River, so it meant being away from the ranch from noon until early evening,

"Jelly's going to be on hand should you need…"

"Should I need what?" Scott interrupted scowling at his father.

"Should you need anything at all." Murdoch ignored his son's reproachful glare, calmly pouring himself some more coffee.

"I won't." Came a defiant reply.

It was more or less what Murdoch had expected and so ignoring the comment he continued, "Jelly will need to acquaint himself with some aspects of your care, so I've asked him to call in later…"

"Damn it Murdoch! I don't want him here…"

"It is not a matter of wanting. It is a case of needing him Son, and you will need him, as neither Johnny nor I will be here." The patriarch's brown eyes held the blond's rebellious gaze, until the fight drained out of the blue eyes, and the young man finally looked down and away.

An uncomfortable silence settled around the table and Johnny decided it was time for his father to mention something else that they had discussed earlier. The brunet looked meaningfully over at his father's desk, hoping the older man would take the hint.

The patriarch flashed a look of understanding at his younger son then turned his gaze on Scott "Would you work on the books while we're gone? I'm so far behind with them now I…"

"That being my fault how can I refuse!"

"Don't put words in my mouth Scott!" Murdoch replied, quietly adding a firm "It's no one's fault, its just one of those things."

Johnny listened silently, impressed with his father's handling of his brother. The older man was infamously quick to react at times, but so great was his determination to get his son back on track with his recovery, he was somehow managing to swallow any irritation aimed in his direction.

A firm knock on the front door had Murdoch staring over at the clock face; it was a little late for visitors.

"Are you expecting someone?" Scott demanded, a wave of panic surging up inside.

"No." Murdoch replied, suddenly aware of his elder son's unease

Johnny rose from his chair and made for the door.

"No don't!" Scott called weakly after his brother as he fumbled with his chair; trying desperately to turn it around, only for it collide with the table leg in his haste.

"Scott? What is it?" Murdoch asked getting quickly to his feet.

"I need to…please…get me out of here Father, please..."

Johnny had gone on to open the door unaware of his brother's panic. It was only when he led the caller, a relatively new ranch hand, into the great room that he saw his sibling and realised he'd inadvertently added to his brother's agony. All colour had drained from Scott's face, who now stared unblinking down at his hands, which were clenched tightly in his lap.

Murdoch had moved from the table and was now standing beside his elder son. He'd been torn between rushing him from the room, as Scott had begged him to do; or make his son face what he seemed to so fear, by greeting the visitor with his head held high. He'd had no time to do either, and his elder boy now sat shoulders slumped avoiding eye contact with everyone around him. It broke the older man's heart to see him like that. His strong, confident son suddenly reduced to a self-conscious, shadow of his former self!

The hand was young, still in his teens and Murdoch saw that the boy's eyes were instantly drawn to the figure in the wheeled chair. The Lancer patriarch found himself wondering if it was his son's troubled demeanour that had captured the young ranch hand's attention, rather than his injury-induced circumstance. He feared what sort of an impression that could leave on the young man, and Murdoch had to stop himself from crying out that his son had been left physically disabled, not mentally impaired as it might unfortunately appear.

Instead he asked calmly "What is it Tom?" all the time chastising himself for not realizing just how very low Scott's self esteem was and just how or even if he and Johnny could build it up again?

TBC

Molly


	14. Chapter 14

Sincere thanks to my inspirational beta, Con.

Broken

Chapter 14

A gentle wind breathed through the trees, the whispering giants shedding their leaves on the group of people gathered so solemnly below. The late autumn day had been blessed with warm sunshine, a fitting tribute to the radiant soul now being laid to eternal rest.

Tears, the silent sorrow, trickled steadily down a mother's pale, haunted face. Dignity and poise helping to contain her and her husband's heart crushing grief.

Murdoch's gaze had been drawn frequently to the couple so devastated by loss. He could sympathise to some extent. He knew all too well the pain of losing a child; and although death had not actually taken his child from him in so cruel a way, he had feared that it had many times during these last twenty years. Taking a deep breath, he knew that unwelcome spectre had trespassed into his life again so very recently; but mercifully, it had left empty handed, so sparing him the agony now being endured by Maisy's parents.

The schoolteacher had been just a year younger than his elder son. She had been a joyous entity whose light had been extinguished far too soon. Like the Reverend had just so aptly said, "The world would be a lot darker place without Maisy Anne Clark in it."

Such a tragic loss put Murdoch's own woes into perspective. He had lost nothing; in fact he had gained, gained time with his elder son. Time he was not about to relinquish.

Seeing that the service was over, Murdoch was drawn from his thoughts and noted that the throng of mourners was beginning to drift away from the graveside. Most of the folks were stopping to exchange a few words with the Clark family before pensively making their way home. The couple were flanked supportively by May and Sam Jenkins; no surprise to anyone of course, least of all Murdoch.

The patriarch knew the doctor had been devastated by the loss of his patient Maisy, especially dear to his heart because the young woman had been the lifelong best friend of his youngest daughter. Cara Jenkins had returned home the day before for the funeral. The willowy blonde was now talking to his younger son, while dabbing the endless stream of moisture from the gray eyes she had inherited from her father. A small smile briefly lifted her sad countenance, and Murdoch knew his son had said something comforting. If only he could find a sentiment with the power to ease Letty and Harry Clark's grief just a little.

As he stepped up Murdoch gripped Harry's waiting hand as he offered his condolences along with a personal anecdote about their daughter. Harry's fingers tightened around Murdoch's in gratitude, the amusing tale had come as a very welcome addition to their treasure trove of remembrances. Tenderly hugging a now openly weeping Letty, the tall rancher then bid the couple a quiet farewell and moved towards his horse, relieved to be leaving such intense heartache behind him.

However, just as he and Johnny were about to ride away, Sam hailed him. The first thing off the doctor's lips was an enquiry on how Scott was doing. The older man listened gravely to the retelling of the previous night's events, but offered no thoughts on the matter. The doctor did however, much to their great relief; promise to call by the next day.

Side by side, father and son began the trek home, both in too sombre a mood to engage in any meaningful conversation. The funeral and the ever-present thoughts of their own loved one on both of their minds.

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The honorary member of the Lancer family hadn't really known what would be expected of him, as Murdoch had canceled the previous night's scheduled introduction into how to help Scott with some of his needs. There really hadn't been time this morning either, before both Murdoch and Johnny had to leave for the funeral of Maisy Clark. Jelly had told them not to worry, they would be alright, to just 'git' and leave it to him. But he hadn't really known what Scott would need or how to help, if asked.

So Jelly hadn't argued with him he'd simple rolled his eyes then ambled off to the great room to retrieve the ledgers as requested; the handyman had then wisely made himself scarce, as he saw Scott flipping irritably through the pages of the first ledger.

'Had he not asked Murdoch to bring them in to his room?' Scott silently fumed. 'Yes he had! But had they? No, they had not! It seemed his family wanted a repeat of last night's humiliating scene in the great room, well he refused to cooperate.'

"What?" Scott said aloud as if someone were there. A mistake in one of the columns instantly caught his eye. Over the course of the next hour, he found several more. Some glaringly obvious, so obvious in fact he couldn't help but wonder if they were genuine, or just a ploy on his father's part to get him to become more involved with ranch affairs. He couldn't be sure, because Murdoch was a stickler for accuracy, and therefore Scott couldn't quite believe he'd make a deliberate mistake for fear of it going uncorrected, he also knew his father's mind had been on other things too, Murdoch's concentration wandering no doubt to his crippled and increasingly troublesome son!

Another hour passed before Scott was satisfied the figures were not only up to date but correct too; only then did he set his pencil down. He was surprised at how quickly time had gone by, so too at the small sense of achievement he reluctantly admitted to now feeling. Still anyone could add and subtract! But still…

He was also beginning to feel a little bit the worse for wear. His neck and the muscles in his upper back and shoulders were now silently protesting the posture he had assumed to do the bookwork. The wheeled chair was quite hard on his upper body, and Sam had instructed him of the need to move and stretch to avoid just what he was now feeling. But he also knew that he had been quite tense while working, due in part to the resentment he had felt at the way he had been cajoled into doing the work. Further straining his body was the fact that mostly last night had been a sleepless one.

Both Murdoch and Johnny had tried to talk to him about his reaction to the ranch hand's unexpected visit. He had stubbornly refused to talk about it, because quite simply he had trouble accepting what he believed to be the cause. His father and brother had been right, he was ashamed and hiding. It seemed he had panicked at the thought of being seen by someone outside the close family circle who had surrounded him since the accident. His pulse had raced; his heart thundered painfully in his chest; his breathing had been affected too, leaving him feeling like he was being smothered. Foolishly at one point he had even believed he was about to die! He had tried to suppress the anxiety he felt. Had tried to hide it from the prying eyes and hopefully he had to some extent. But still he knew there was a good chance he had made himself look a complete fool. God knows what Tom thought of him now? And to think, the young man had only called by to let them know Jelly would be late!

It was only when his father had taken him back to his room that he had started to feel in any way better. Drained he had asked to be assisted to bed, but once there sleep had proved elusive. His thoughts kept alternating between his 'panic episode' and Maisy's death. He just could not understand why he had been spared in his useless state and someone so essential in the scheme of things be taken in her prime. The tragic irony of it all had tormented him through the endless hours of darkness; by dawn the only answer he had to his question was that death was equally as fickle and as unfair as life itself.

His discomfort increasing, Scott began to roll his shoulders in the hope of relieving the stiffness that seemed determined to settle there. To add to his discomfort was his dry throat, and he longed for a drink, hot or cold, it did not matter as long as it was wet! When he realized a little while ago that the water picture, which had been by his bedside since he came home, was suddenly not there, he knew either his father or brother, or both, had a hand in its disappearance Anger had flushed through him when the clarity of the action was understood. But anger wasn't helping to alleviate his thirst.

Eying the bell that had sat so idly on the nightstand since his first day home, he sighed toying with the idea of using it. He knew only too well how much the tinkling sound could grate on one's nerves. He'd like to have thrown it in the well when Jelly had had it at his disposal! Despite himself, Scott found himself smiling at the thought of getting his own back on the older man. A hint of pure devilment appeared in Scott's eyes as he picked up the bell and rang it long and hard.

Jelly was soon careering into the room "What in tarnation…ya alright boy?"

The handyman was looking him up and down with great concern and the blond Lancer was soon regretting his action, "Yes, sorry Jelly I was just…"

"Jest what? Ya need somethin' Scott?

"No…well yes…a, a drink but I could get that myself…"

Mistaking the young mans hesitancy for embarrassment Jelly believed his needs were really of a more delicate nature. "Do ya need ta go Scott?"

"Go where?" A puzzled Scott replied.

Jelly gazed meaningfully at the commode.

"No!" The blond replied indignantly, not that he could be sure of that anymore. "I just wanted a drink and…and…"

Still not convinced Jelly took a step closer and scrutinized the younger man's face, looking for the truth, but not sure of what he saw, he finally asked "And what?"

Deflating wearily, Scott pointed towards his bed and stated self-consciously "I'm supposed to lie down for an hour or so in the afternoon, but I…well I need some help to get there."

"Is that all…" Jelly paused, the truth quickly dawning on him "I've heard ya tell ya brother often enough about there bein' no shame in asking fer and acceptin' help, so why cain't ya see there ain't nothing wrong in needin some ya self?"

Scott shrugged and wheeled himself nearer to the bed "I should be able to do this myself by now, but I just can't seem to master the technique."

"Tryin' too hard maybe?"

Scott wanted to laugh at that remark, was such a thing possible? Instead he spat a bitter "No, I'm just physically inept!"

Ignoring the outburst Jelly positioned himself along side the wheeled chair "Tell me what ya want me ta do."

So busy was Scott in explaining the procedure, as he performed each necessary manoeuvre, that he had soon, quite effortlessly and unbeknownst to himself, got onto the bed completely unaided. Not even the smug grin that had settled on Jelly's face enlightened him. "What's so damned funny?" He demanded.

"Anythin' else ya don't need me ta do fer ya?"

"What?" Scott's blue eyes traveled suspiciously to his wheeled chair then back to Jelly's beaming face "I…I didn't?"

"Ya did!"

JMLJMLJML

They had made good time. Father and son were now looking down upon Lancer from the very spot Teresa had first introduced the then estranged Lancer sons to their birthright.

Neither Murdoch nor Johnny ever tired of the view. Lush pasture dotted with an array of sparkling watering holes and contentedly grazing stock. Nestled reassuringly in their midst, were the gleaming white walls of home. Smoke curled lazily up from an assortment of chimneys, as lines of washing danced in the breeze. Birdsong serenading the vista, added to the simple charm of the valley below.

Soothed by the tranquility both men simultaneously urged their mounts down the winding road, eager to see if it was equally as calm within the estancia.

"Cara's taking it quite badly." Johnny finally broke what had been a companionable silence.

The patriarch nodded "That's only to be expected son, she and Maisy were so very close."

Johnny shifted uncomfortably in his saddle; he'd meant the news about Scott's injury, not the schoolteacher's death. "Yeah," he quietly replied.

The young woman was truly devastated by the loss of her friend, but so too had she been deeply shocked to hear of Scott's paralysis. The brunet had been sure at one time of a mutual attraction between Cara and his brother; but her visits home were so infrequent, nothing had ever come of it and wasn't likely to now. Cara had just been offered a new position in Stockton; and Scott seemed determined to distance himself from anyone who even remotely cared for him.

Now for the umpteenth time that day he began to wonder how Jelly had fared with his sibling's moods. The older man would take any amount of good-natured ribbing, but show him a mean side and he'd bite back! Like his father, Johnny had been reluctant to leave his brother after last night's worrying display, especially since the unexpected visit by the young ranch hand had prevented he and his father from 'acquainting' the handyman with Scott's needs. They didn't have time this morning either, with so much going on and trying to leave in good time for the funeral.

As well meaning as Jelly was he could be a little irritating at times, and Johnny feared his brother's frayed nerves might get the better of him yet again. He wasn't sure just how well Jelly would handle it should it come to that.

As they rode into the courtyard, he was relieved and not a little surprised to hear a melodic whistling. Jelly only seemed to know one tune and it was only to be heard when the older man was particularly pleased with himself. Meeting his father's questioning gaze, the brunet could only shrug.

The handyman appeared from the kitchen, a mug of coffee in his hand. "We weren't expectin' ya yet!"

Ignoring the comment Murdoch broached what was at the very front of his mind "How's Scott?"

"Restin'"

"He's been okay?" Johnny ventured tentatively.

"Better than okay but I'd best let him tell ya that himself!"

TBC

Molly


	15. Chapter 15

Sincere thanks to my inspirational beta, Con.

Broken

Chapter 15

Sam Jenkins settled himself in the armchair that stood in the corner of Scott's bedroom. He was now sitting more or less opposite the younger man, and close enough to read both the young man's countenance and his body language. The doctor knew his presence was resented, the enquiry he had made after entering the room had seen to that. Still he had a thick skin not to mention a stubborn streak to rival any one of the Lancers! He eyed the elder Lancer son expectantly; a set of indignation filled blue eyes stared back.

"There's nothing wrong with me Sam, apart that is from the obvious!" Scott stated as he gestured to his legs. The blond was quietly seething, his anger directed at his father. The older man had had no right going behind his back and requesting a visit from Dr. Jenkins, and he'd damn well tell him so the moment he saw him.

Sam leant back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest silently studying the younger man, and making mental notes of his observations. Scott was pale, too pale for his liking, but it was not a pallor he could associate with anaemia. No this unhealthy shade of wan was what he would call prison pallor, found only in those hidden away from the life giving rays of the sun. Scott was in obvious need of a good few hours of sunlight, not to mention a breath of fresh air!

The windows were open in his room but with no breeze to speak of, the same stuffy air was all that circulated between the four walls. The boy had lost weight too; and being naturally lean, he could ill afford to do that. He also seemed incredibly tense. If his clenched jaw had not given that away then his hands would have done; they were balled almost into fists. Murdoch was right to be concerned about his eldest boy, and upon seeing him, Sam was too!

Heaving a determined sigh Sam replied, "Scott you're not being honest with me and more importantly you are not being honest with yourself!"

Irritation flashed across the blonds' face, but he held his voice in check. "Look Sam, I'm fine…as fine as I'll ever be, you're making a fuss over nothing."

"What happened the other night wasn't nothing…" The doctor began in a serious tone.

"You weren't here so how would you know?" Scott snapped. He was uncomfortable with the memories the doctor's words had evoked, and was determined he would not discuss what had happened. In an attempt to get that message across he gripped the wheels of his chair and moved himself away from the older man. He couldn't quite bring himself to turn his back on the doctor though, so positioned himself at a right angle so as to look out of the window.

Sam had expected some sort of denial and pressed on "Your father…"

"My father shouldn't have bothered you!" Scott looked in the doctor's direction but finding he couldn't hold the searching gaze, he quickly looked away again.

Climbing to his feet the doctor stepped to stand beside Scott offering a gentle "He's concerned about you and with good reason by the sound of it."

"No!" The blond snarled gesturing helplessly with his hands "He's blown it all out of proportion and you too are making a mountain out of a molehill!"

"I don't think so Scott!" The doctor insisted, his tone again echoing his concern. Pausing a moment, he then added a little more gently "Look at you; you haven't left this room…"

Scott's head snapped, the blond eager to correct the doctor "I have!"

"Alright, you have." Sam conceded before moving on to make his point "but just the once and only then because you were pressured into doing so, and look what happened when you did? Why you got in such a state you…"

The blond stiffened noticeably, causing Sam to stop mid-sentence. Scott was enraged at having been spoken to in such a patronizing manner. Spinning his chair around to face the older man, he then wheeled it closer purposefully invading the doctor's space. As he glared up into the lined face he icily made his feelings known "I think you had better leave Sam, now, before we both say something we will regret!"

The doctor harrumphed and squared his shoulders ready to do battle. He would not tolerate such disrespect from one of his patients, and certainly not from one he had a great affection for. He was well aware Scott's actions, although seemingly threatening, were really just a knee jerk reaction to being cornered. The young man was desperately trying to avoid facing a harsh truth. However, Sam was determined the boy would face it, and deal with it appropriately. Intent on taking charge of the situation Sam raised his voice a little and in an authoritive tone replied, "I'll go when I'm good and ready, and that won't be until I've had some honest answers from you young man!"

"Now look…" Scott began not willing to back down.

The doctor of course had other ideas and his voice soared higher still silencing the younger man "I'm prepared to wait however long it takes!" The blue eyes remained locked on his, but Sam could see they no longer contained the hostility that had been present just minutes ago. Still it seemed Scott needed some encouragement to do what was expected of him, so Sam narrowed his eyes and demanded "Well?"

Finally, after a few uncomfortable moments of silence, the blond shifted uneasily and lowered his gaze. In a quiet but emotionally filled voice, he began.

"I don't know what happened that night. In here," Scott gestured around his room, "I feel…I feel I can cope…out there I have to be someone else… something I'm not anymore." Another moment of silence passed and Scott shook his head ruefully before exclaiming, "Damn it Sam! I couldn't cope…I panicked! I can't do this!"

Sam instantly reached out; resting his hand on Scott's shoulder squeezing it reassuringly as he gently reasoned, "You're still the same person you were before the accident. You haven't changed inside…"

The blonds head snapped up "But I have! And I don't like what I've become! Angry, bitter…useless…"

Shaking his head Sam uttered a fierce "No!" then in a quieter but firm tone continued:

"Scott. This is all about you doubting your worth…your value as an individual. Your self-esteem has taken a severe blow. What man's wouldn't in the same circumstances? You've only grudgingly accepted what's happened to you. You know that physically you will never be like you were before the accident, and have decided that because you no longer like or respect yourself no one else will! But you are doing a great disservice not only to yourself but to those around you too…"

Pausing briefly to make sure he had the younger man's full attention the doctor then continued, "Tell me, if it was Johnny in that chair or Murdoch or Jelly or one of the men would you see them in any different light? Would you think any less of them?

Shocked the doctor could think him capable of such a thing Scott replied vehemently, "No of course I wouldn't."

Raising an enquiring eyebrow Sam replied, "Why then expect any less from them?"

"I don't." Scott insisted but the searching gaze of the older man soon had him admitting to himself that that was exactly what he was doing. As the truth dawned on him, Scott shook his head, dropping his gaze as shame overwhelmed him. The doctor was right!

He'd made an alarming and unpleasant discovery about himself, and it shook Scott's composure further. In a shaky voice he tried to make sense of his actions "I…I haven't dealt with any of this very well; I've certainly not conducted myself in a manner I can be proud of." Swallowing hard he continued in a barely audible whisper "I'm disappointed in myself, very disappointed, and I suppose I expect others to be too, or see me as I now see myself."

"And just how do you see yourself?" Sam pressed gently.

"I see…a pathetic excuse for a man!"

"You are being unjustifiably hard on yourself!" Came the doctor's heartfelt reply. Reaching for a chair he quickly set it before the young man and perched on the edge of it. Leaning in close he rested a hand atop Scott's and continued quietly.

"No one in your situation would or could accept it without battling through the various stages of both physical and emotional recovery. That's exactly what you have been doing. It's a slow and painful process I know, but you are getting there Scott. Still…"

Sam's gaze swept meaningfully around the room

"…there is only so much headway you can make in here. It's a stifling existence especially for someone who has previously lived life as it should be lived, with purpose, meaning, and direction."

The doctor watched the blond head bow on hearing his words, gripping the young man's forearm he squeezed reassuringly "You may have had to veer off course a little, but all you need to do to get back on track, albeit a slightly different one, is harness a little of the stubbornness and determination that runs through your veins."

Deciding to leave the young man alone to digest his words, Sam squeezed Scott's hand and without another word quietly left the room.

JMLJMLJML

Stepping into the hallway, Sam found both Murdoch and Johnny hovering by the door. The look of surprise on both men's faces swiftly turned to guilt, the doctor realized father and son had been eavesdropping! Rolling his eyes he then frowned, his displeasure clearly displayed for both to see, before motioning them to the great room.

Once safely out of earshot Sam exploded, "How dare you! How dare you listen in on a private conversation!"

Johnny cringed at the verbal onslaught, coloring a little, and feeling suitably ashamed of his behaviour. His father, however, wasn't so submissive.

"Sam! We heard raised voices. I know it was wrong and I'm sorry, but I'm worried sick about that boy and…"

"Alright." Sam reined in his temper a little. As a father himself, he could well understand Murdoch's concern. Still he wasn't going to let them off too easily. His gaze flitting angrily between the two men he demanded, "How much did you hear?"

Johnny squirmed and looked to his father, happy to let the older man do the talking, as he hated being on the wrong side of Sam Jenkins. 'Been there enough don't want to be there again' he thought.

"Just about everything." Murdoch replied, now sounding a little more sheepish than before.

Sam shook his head, then walked to the large chair and sat down.

"Well all I can do now then is offer you both a little advice." Two sets of eyes now stared at him expectantly and Sam mellowed a little more "First give him a little time alone. He needs to gather his thoughts and do a little soul searching. I'm sure then he'll be a lot more receptive to a little encouragement…and that's where you two come in!"

JMLJMLJML

Ever since returning home after his accident, he had done his best to ignore the partially glazed door that led into the courtyard. He had kept it locked and the drape drawn across it at all times, telling himself it was to maintain his dignity.

About half an hour after Sam had left he'd taken a deep breath, moved to it and thrown back the heavily embossed fabric, securing it with its matching tieback. He'd turned his back on it then, moving further into the room.

Another half hour had gone by; one filled with a great deal of thought. Scott now found himself staring at the door contemplating the fact that a couple of inches of wood was all that separated him from the outside world. A world that was busily going on without him. Was he missing being a part of it all? Well yes, if he was completely honest with himself, he was.

Glancing briefly at the picture that rested on his writing desk, the one that showed him standing shoulder to shoulder with General Sheridan, his thoughts settled on the many lessons he'd learnt back then. War had taught him to truly appreciate life, to savour the good times and learn from the bad. But he had shamefully forgotten that of late, and was prepared; it seemed, to let his mind and spirit wither away to nothing.

He shook his head at his failings, knowing he'd let go of all his dreams, shunned a future that would fall far short of his previous expectations. He had been wantonly giving up on life.

Yet this was not who he truly was. He'd once fought tooth and nail for survival, had been willing to do almost anything just to be able to breathe the fresh air as a free man again. Now his own pride and foolishness was holding him prisoner, and he alone had the power to secure his release, not like before when he had to wait for others.

Now he had to ask himself: Did he want to make everything right before it was too late? Yes he did. So was he to lower his sights? No! That was the wrong question. He was still looking at this the wrong way. He'd always before enjoyed a challenge, thrived on them in fact! Life now looked to be one long challenge and it terrified him. However, so did the war, so did prison, but he had reached deep inside himself then and found the strength to carry on.

Scott breathed out a shaky breath; again what faced him all seemed a little too much. No! He couldn't defeat himself. He forced his thoughts back to earlier that morning and to Sam's visit. The doctor's calm rationale had gotten through to him; it had opened his eyes and offered him some hope. The older man had also advised him to take things at a steady rate. To set small but attainable goals, encouraging him to build up his shattered confidence gradually. As always, the doctor had made a lot of sense. If Sam had been addressing such comments to Johnny he would have backed him 100, and gone on to ensure they were acted on. Could he do no less for himself, he wondered?

Calmer again, he asked himself what that first goal should be. He didn't like the answer, and couldn't help thinking it was a little too much to start off with. But the idea continued to nag at him, until it seemed pure cowardice to ignore it.

His hands were once again oozing moisture, causing his grip to slip on the wheels of his chair as he tried to move them. Undaunted, he wiped it away on his pant legs then gripped the wheels again, and edged closer to the door.

One hand now on the handle, Scott hesitated only briefly before pulling it open. With one determined spin of the wheels he found himself out in the courtyard, the summer air welcomed him, warm and aromatic. A victorious sigh escaped his lips and he gazed up at the expanse of sky. He had forgotten just how blue it was. A bird soared high above him, riding the late summer thermals; he watched it a little enviously knowing he would never know that sense of freedom.

Did he pity himself again? No, no that had been just a general observation. He could forgive himself for that one! And forgiving himself for his behaviour over the last few weeks was the next thing on his agenda. It wouldn't happen overnight, but he'd get there…

JMLJMLJML

He wasn't sure what he had heard, but the unexpected noise had made him suspicious, so hand hovering over his Colt he'd crept closer to check it out. Peering cautiously around the whitewashed wall, Johnny was stunned to see his sibling. The older man was seated in his wheeled chair, his face upturned, seemingly basking in the warmth of the sun.

A small but genuine smile was present on the blond's face, the first Johnny had seen in a very long time. He was soon smiling too! Lingering for just a moment at his secret vantage point before the guilt finally edged him backwards and well out of sight should his brother happen to turn his way. The brunet was still smiling when he entered the great room eager to put a similar smile on his father's face.

TBC

Molly


	16. Chapter 16

Broken

Sincere thanks to my inspirational beta, Con.

Broken 

Chapter 16

It had been almost a week since the day Scott had first rolled his chair into the small courtyard outside his room, and had decided to get on with the business of living again. Each day he had ventured a little further away from his room and the hacienda. His wheeled chair wasn't really designed to be self-propelled, and although he managed to get around the ground floor of the hacienda virtually unaided, outside was a different matter. 

The ground was uneven just about everywhere, so making even the shortest jaunt laborious and such effort quickly exhausted a still relatively weak Scott. Although the muscles in his upper arms and torso were beginning to develop in size, and in strength, they were not what Sam Jenkins called 'seasoned' but given time, he assured the young man, they would be. Until then, either Murdoch or Johnny would help provide the necessary input of steam to move his wheeled chair over the 'unfriendly 'terrain.

However, knowing how difficult it would be even after Scott had gained more strength; Murdoch had promised his son to find ways of adapting various aspects of the Lancer property to make it easier for Scott to get around. The young man hadn't replied, instead he'd looked away, and Murdoch realised his elder boy was still planning to return to Boston. Still the fact he hadn't verbalized that intention at that point, offered his father renewed hope of keeping his son with him at Lancer.

As the week went on, and he spent more and more time outside, it was inevitable that Scott had encountered the ranch hands as they came and went about their work. He had been decidedly uncomfortable at first, but they had all made a point of shaking his hand and letting him know how good it was to see him. It was evident that the respect he had earned a long time ago was unshakable, and that they didn't see the wheeled chair, just the fine man that sat in it.

Towards the end of the week, Sam had called by on his way to visit an expectant mother, and the doctor had been unable to hide his delight at finding Scott out in the open. At the time of Dr. Jenkins' visit, he was reacquainting himself with his horse by the sun-drenched corral. 

There was a healthy glow in the young man's cheeks. That along with the accompanying sparkle in the blue eyes, and proud set to the fair-headed man's jaw, served to put a spring in the doctor's step, and the older man whistled happily as he made his way towards the hacienda.

Sam had found Murdoch sitting behind his desk, pouring over a ledger. The younger man's eyes had widened in surprise upon seeing his friend.

"Sam! We weren't expecting you!" The rancher got to his feet, stepping quickly around his desk, and moving to meet the older man face to face in the centre of the room.

"It's just a flying visit Murdoch. I was just a little concerned over Scott's mood the over day. I was hoping to find some improvement in his outlook..." The doctor paused gesturing behind him to the front door "… but I would never have dared dream…" the doctor beamed in sheer joy "that there would be such a marked change and so quickly too."

The taller man smiled broadly, "He's thrown himself body and soul into righting his upturned world, and its all down to you Sam. I want to…"

"Nonsense!" The doctor waved off the praise "He'd have cleared his own path…he just needed a little push…"

"Well that little push…" Murdoch interrupted, determined to thank Sam for what he personally considered to be a momentous achievement "…got that boy over an incredible hurdle. One we just didn't know how to negotiate. I…we, we really are very grateful Sam." The patriarch's face and tone turned serious "I've never really thanked you for all you've done…"

"Yes you have, repeatedly and I appreciate it believe me, but just seeing Scott out there looking so well, and actually looking forward to a tomorrow is all the thanks I need. Now, I really would like to stay and talk more, but I really must be going." 

Murdoch followed his friend out through the door, wishing he had been able to express his gratitude fully. But Sam had always been a little dismissive of his deeds, believing everything he did just a part of his job. But his actions and input often went far beyond the call of duty, as was the case with Scott, in helping them all through this difficult period of adjustment.

As the two men strode side by side towards Sam's buggy, Murdoch thought to ask after May, whom he had not seen since the young schoolteacher's funeral. Maisy had been their youngest daughter's best friend. He knew that Sam and May had been very close to Maisy even though their daughter Cara no longer lived in Green River. So he was sure that it had to have been a difficult time for them both. Just now thinking about it, Murdoch suddenly wondered if they could perhaps both do with some distraction.

"Sam. Why don't you and May come over this weekend? Saturday night? I'll ask Maria to do that pot roast you like…"

The doctor stopped in his tracks the smile on his face evidence of the idea's immense appeal, "Saturday! Yes. Yes, that would be lovely Murdoch. I know May will look forward to it too."

"Saturday it is then!" 

Now ensconced in his aging buggy the doctor nodded in the direction of the corral "Scott needs to start socializing on a broader scale, a trip into town would do him good!"

Murdoch glanced in his elder son's who along with his brother now appeared to be in an earnest discussion with Cipriano, the ranches' Segundo.

"I'll suggest it but…"

"I know he probably won't be quite ready for that just yet, but plant the idea Murdoch, give it time to blossom."

With a snap of the reins, the dapple-grey mare trotted away pulling the doctors rickety but reliable form of transport behind. Murdoch stood watching his friend leave, with a small smile on his face.

JMLJMLJML

It was, Scott decided, as he struggled to get himself in just the right position needed, easier to get into the damned bed than it was to get out! He could just throw himself onto the mattress if need be, with little fear of doing injury to himself. Not that he so far had to resort to throwing himself, mind you. No, so far he had managed to always transfer himself with a modicum of decorum. But hauling himself from his bed into his chair or worse still the hated commode was a completely different matter. It took a bit…no a lot more concentration, not to mention some skill; a skill he was still acquiring. 

The elder Lancer son knew he could quite easily end up on the floor if he didn't align himself correctly; and his balance still wasn't as sure as he would like before starting the maneuver. Falling awkwardly could result in yet more broken bones, and breaking his back had been quite enough, thank you very much. And God forbid, should he break his arm, well he would be even more helpless!

"Scott…"

"Stay where you are!" He hadn't meant to raise his voice, but Johnny had moved a little closer to him, and he'd already told him twice that he didn't need any help! It wasn't that Scott didn't appreciate Johnny's continued readiness to help of course; he just knew that constantly submitting to such good intentions would only hold him back.

He heard his brother sigh, and then just seconds later begin to fidget, as Johnny's restless energy started getting the better of him. Scott didn't even have to look at his brother to know the dark haired Lancer's eyes were still fixed upon him and would remain so until he was safely in his chair. That knowledge did nothing for his confidence, and in exasperation he snapped "Johnny you don't need to be here you know!" 

There was a brief silence before the younger man replied quietly "Maybe you should try the other side!" 

Scott stilled and eyed his sibling questioningly, "What?" 

The younger Lancer son's eyes sparkled mischievously as he answered,

"Try getting out of that bed on the other side. Because see this side here…" Johnny gestured to where his brother was sitting. "…well it's obviously the wrong side…and we all know what that means…if you get out of bed on the wrong side then you'll be in a bad mood the rest of the day!" A grin spread across Johnny's face, the young man highly amused by his observation.

Scott couldn't help but grin back "Really?"

"Really! Just ask Murdoch, he gets out the wrong side most mornings…"

"I do?" A deep voiced boomed from the doorway.

Johnny started; he hadn't heard his father enter the room. He rolled his eyes and ventured a quiet "You been there long Murdoch?" 

"Long enough!"

Grimacing now, Johnny replied, "I thought so."

Scott chuckled at his brother's discomfort, and then with a grunt of determination heaved himself across into his wheeled chair.

Murdoch strode further into the room "Is it getting any easier Son?"

"Yes, I think so, and it wouldn't have taken me so long now if…"Scott paused eyeing his brother "… I hadn't been so distracted!" 

Johnny's eyes widened then he glanced back over his shoulder as if expecting to see someone standing behind him. Fixing his gaze again on his brother he demanded "And what did I do exactly?"

"Nothing little brother!" A smile tugged at the blond Lancer's lips and his blue eyes danced with mirth "You were absolutely no help at all!"

The youngest Lancer snorted and held up his hands stating proudly "Guilty as charged!"

Murdoch chuckled softly, delighted to once again hear banter passing between his sons, which had been all too evidently absent since Scott's accident and Lord knows he had missed it. Dare he hope things were actually beginning to return to normal? Well as near normal as was possible under the circumstances. Hopefully the smile on Scott's face told him he could.

It was late afternoon; Scott had been resting as ordered, and assuming a prone position to help prevent the undesirable lower limb contractures Sam had warned them about. Taking the rest and stretching out on his bed also helped with the prevention of pressure sores, and so far their combined diligence in keeping to this routine, had helped Scott evade all such complications.

It had become another daily ritual; and these routines were all quickly becoming an unspoken part of daily life, and to Scott's great relief less intrusive on everyone's time, particularly for his father and brother.

Murdoch had only ventured inside Scott's room to remind his younger son to wear something suitable for dinner that evening. He could perhaps get away with a casual look if there had been no females sitting around the table, but as May was to be one of their two guests, the rancher wanted everyone to make the required effort to dress accordingly. 

Reaching out with his index finger Murdoch gentle prodded his younger son on his arm, then gestured with the digit at his brightly coloured shirt "How about wearing that new white one tonight?"

Johnny shrugged "May won't care what I wear…"

"No, but I will."

"Necktie?" The question rolled distastefully off the youngest Lancer's tongue, but that was as far as the rebellion was to go.

"Perfect!" Came his father's quick reply. Returning his elder son's amused grin, Murdoch turned and left the room. Stepping into the great room his gaze settled on the dining table, and noted that Maria had just finished setting it. Crystal and china now sparkled invitingly upon a white linen tablecloth, and as always, their housekeeper had done them proud. 

As he stood in the great room, Murdoch thought back to Scott's reaction on hearing they were to have company over. The young man had fallen silent and looked more than a little apprehensive upon hearing the news, and his father had decided to wait until they were alone before broaching the subject again. When he did, Scott had lowered his gaze and gone on to explain why he was feeling a little anxious about seeing May Jenkins. 

Apart from it being the first entertaining he had done since his accident, he also felt a little embarrassed by what May had had to do for him when he had been at the Jenkins' home after the accident. Not to mention the fact that she had also witnessed him rant and rave during the time he'd spent in her care. However, Murdoch had reassured him of May's understanding and Scott had visibly brightened, looking at the occasion as one where he could both thank May and apologise for his extremely bad behaviour.

As the grandfather clock chimed in the evening hours, Murdoch headed towards his desk. He still had some entries to make into the books, so knowing there was sufficient time before the Jenkins' were to arrive, he would do that then ready himself for what he was sure would be a convivial evening spent with two very dear friends.

JMLJMLJML

"They're here!" Johnny announced as he heard a carriage pull up outside the front door.

"Already?" Murdoch eyed the timepiece that stood by the French windows before striding towards the door. The loud rapping surprised him, and instantly he had doubts about it being May and Sam that had arrived. Still he was totally unprepared for the figure he found standing out on the porch.

"Harlan!"

TBC

Molly


	17. Chapter 17

Sincere thanks to my inspirational beta, Con.

Broken

Chapter 17

The very mention of Scott's grandfather's name made Johnny tense, and realizing Murdoch had uttered it, because Harlan Garret was actually at the door, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The youngest Lancer could only look on in silent loathing, as his father led the older man into the great room. The aging Bostonian swaggered past Johnny, yet at no time did he offer any acknowledgement of the young man's presence. The slight didn't surprise him; he knew Garret had only contempt for his grandson's 'half-breed' brother!

He had heard no pleasantries pass between the two older men either. The very first words to pass Garret's lips was an icily spoken question "Where is Scott?"

"In his room…" Murdoch had begun, only to be interrupted by a sharp retort.

"Then perhaps you could inform him of our arrival." Garret said dismissively.

'Our' Johnny thought, inquisitively stepping towards the door to see who else had arrived so unexpectedly at the hacienda. The last time Harlan Garret had visited, he'd brought Julie, Scott's ex fiancée. Surely, he hadn't coerced the young woman into accompanying him again! Although Scott hadn't said so in as many words, Johnny knew her sudden reappearance into his sibling's life had deeply unsettled him, and would only serve to do so again.

Outside he spied Walt removing several items of luggage from what Johnny recognised to be Green River's livery's rental carriage. A short, stocky, grey-headed man stood beside the ranch hand, insisting in a rather pompous tone that the cases be handled with the greatest of care.

As Walt strode into the hallway, large leather bound case in either hand, he met Johnny's gaze and rolled his eyes. Whoever this other man was, he'd already managed to rattle Walt's even temperament.

"The guest rooms in the south wing, Johnny?"

The brunet nodded in response to Walt's question, and offered the hand a quiet "Thanks".

Those rooms would do nicely. Situated in a recently refurbished part of the hacienda the rooms in this wing were always kept aired and ready, should the family ever have unexpected guests.

Garret's traveling companion followed behind the much taller Walt, a carpetbag held securely in his hand. Suited and with a remote air about him, the stranger eyed Johnny coolly, and the dark-haired Lancer was a little surprised by the formality in which he both addressed him and introduced himself.

"Good Evening Sir. Masters, Valet to Mr. Garret."

"Good evening." Johnny replied, wondering just how he should address the older man, as he wasn't sure whether Masters was his first or last name. He also wasn't quite sure what a valet did, but he pitied the man simply for being in Harlan's employ.

With Masters following the laden-down ranch hand up the stairs, Johnny's attention returned to the two men now facing each other in the centre of the great room.

"I've asked you to let Scotty know of my presence!"

"And I've asked you to wait a few minutes while I explain a few things…"

"Surely Scott is capable of talking for himself, or has his injury robbed him of the power of speech too?" Garret interrupted once more, his distaste for his former son-in-law clearly displayed on his stern face.

"No of course it hasn't!" Murdoch snapped back, his patience already wearing a little thin.

Seeing that he would get nowhere with the uncivilized westerner, Harlan Garret turned, and though loathe to do so, spoke to the person he held responsible for Scott's failure to return to Boston, when he had last visited this godforsaken place.

"You!" Garret gestured in Johnny's direction. "You will inform Scott that his grandfather has arrived and is waiting to see him."

Suddenly it seemed he was visible to the older man! If only as something closely resembling what had to be scraped off a man's boots from time to time! Johnny had been prepared to ignore Garret's rudeness, but as he looked to his father for direction, he saw pure outrage on Murdoch's face.

"My son has a name and you will address him in a respectful…"

"Murdoch!" Johnny warned stepping quickly to stand between the two men. But it had been a futile deed, because both men now seemed ignorant of his presence, as their voices rose, while they continued to spar verbally.

"Johnny Madrid is it not!" Garrett spat scathingly, while appearing to look down his nose at the two Lancers." No killer, paid or unpaid is worthy of a gentleman's respect!"

"Lancer! His name is John Lancer and whether you are under my roof or not you will address him as such and …"

"And tarnish my daughter's memory! I think not…"

"ENOUGH!" Scott's voice soared above the two older men's raised voices. Suddenly silence ensued, and filled the large room. All eyes quickly settled on the elder Lancer son.

Shaking his head in disgust, Scott fought to rein in his temper. In an unsteady voice, still seething with rage, he finally said, "My room is just through here, if you would care to join me Grandfather."

Not waiting for an answer, Scott skillfully swiveled his chair, maneuvering it quickly through the open door.

Hesitating only briefly, Harlan Garrett strode after his grandson, giving the two Lancers a quick triumphant, but dismissive look, just before he shut the hallway door firmly behind him.

"How dare he!" Murdoch thundered as he began to pace the floor. "How dare that man come here and…and…"

"He's upset about Scott…" Johnny began to reason, hoping to soothe the troubled waters a little.

The patriarch stopped in his tracks eyeing his younger son he demanded "How can you defend him…"

"I'm not" Johnny was quick to reply "I guess I'm just thinking of how you two yelling at each other will affect Scott. He doesn't need that right now."

Murdoch's expression softened and his shoulders lost some of their tension. "No he doesn't. I'm sorry son I…well I couldn't let him talk to you like that…"

Johnny smiled at his father's uncharacteristic candidness "I appreciate that Murdoch, but we just gotta keep our cool where Garret's concerned. You know he'll use whatever he can against us; but we don't have to rise to the bait."

Murdoch smiled back, a surge of pride chasing all remnants of anger away.

"You're right John. I'll try to remember those very wise words."

Ducking his head at the unexpected acknowledgment, Johnny made his way over to the liquor cabinet and busied himself with pouring a drink for himself and his father. Both were in need of its soothing warmth.

Setting a generously filled crystal glass in Murdoch's hand, he gazed in the direction his father was now absently staring: towards the hallway door, through the hallway to Scott's room. The older man's thoughts were quite obviously centered there.

"I wish I knew what…" Murdoch paused as Walt appeared by the door.

"Everything alright Walt?"

"Yeah seems ta be Boss. I've left 'him' unpacking them fancy bags, looks ta me like they're plannin' on staying a while!" With another roll of his eyes, the ranch hand beat a hasty retreat, eager to make it to the relative calm of the bunkhouse.

"What's a valet do Murdoch?" Johnny jumped at the chance to change the subject.

Murdoch thought on his answer a moment then replied.

"He tends to a gentleman's personal needs I believe. Masters has been with Garrett a long time, as I remember seeing him when I visited Scott in Boston. Your brother will know him well I'm sure. I suppose that's why Harlan's brought him along."

"That'd be right, him paying someone else to do what 'he' should be doing!"

The bitterness in his tone surprised even Johnny, and he silently blasted himself for doing what he'd just advised his father against so doing! But his father didn't seem to have heard him; because once again the older man's gaze seemed locked on the hallway door, as if contemplating charging through it, and making his way to his elder son's room.

"Murdoch?" Johnny gently called. He had intended on breaking whatever spell his father was under, but was unprepared for the result.

"Why now?" The older man roared, "Why did he have to come now?"

Lowering his voice, as he realised its volume, Murdoch continued: "Your brother was doing so well, settling into a routine, settling back into life here! Just when it looked…when it seemed he'd stay…when I began to let myself believe he would stay!"

"His coming now don't mean Scott will return with him!" Johnny stated.

"Your brother's still contemplating leaving I know it!" Murdoch snapped unable to contain his fear. Seeing his son flinch at the ferocity of his statement, the rancher heaved a sigh

"Sorry son I…I just think Harlan will be able to tip the scales in his favour. If we'd had a little more time then maybe we could have convinced Scott that he belongs here no matter what, but…right now he's still looking to Boston for a future and Harlan can and will, I'm sure, promise him one!"

"Yeah, you may be right, but I don't trust that old man. He'd lie to Scott like he did last time, just to get him back. So I ain't gonna let him out of my sight. Nope, if Scott goes it's because he knows what he's getting into not cause of some damn lies from that old bastard." Johnny glared at his father to let him know how serious he was. Setting his drink on the table, he left through the front door, to move around towards Scott's room.

TBC

Molly


	18. Chapter 18

Broken

Sincere thanks to my inspirational beta, Con.

Broken

Chapter 18

As he wheeled himself back to his room, Scott was still seething inside. The animosity he had witnessed in the great room was eating at him, willfully refusing to be dismissed. Yet what good would it do to toss the matter back and fourth with his grandfather now? The older man had scant regard for either his father, or brother, nothing would change that. No pleading or cajoling on his part would make him see them the way he did. No polite censure or stern rebuttal would mend either his grandfather's attitude or approach. It was quite simply a battle he could never hope to win. So he had to somehow quash his anger and concentrate on why his grandfather was here.

He had obviously received his letter and had traveled out here to accompany him to Boston. However, knowing his grandfather as he did, Scott had expected word back first. Some idea of how he had taken the news of his life changing injury. Or at the very least, a telegram announcing his pending arrival. But at the moment, he was well and truly in the dark where that was concerned, and it scared him a little! Stopping his wheeled chair near the door that opened into the small courtyard, he knew that whether he was prepared or not, he was about to find out the answer to that question.

As the older man stepped into his room, his eyes immediately settled upon his grandson: A quizzical look upon his face. "Scotty? How are you my boy?"

There was a forced cheerfulness in his grandfathers voice, one Scott knew he wielded when uncomfortable with a situation. Avoidance tactics would surely follow and Scott was in no mood to skirt around the issue. Thus preparing himself, he turned his chair to face the older man.

"Paralyzed, from the waist down!"

He had made the statement matter-of-factly. He himself had always appreciated directness, and had often found it the best way to deal with his grandfather, where a delicate matter was concerned. Looking at him, Scott could clearly measure its effect on the older man's face, and for a brief moment he regretted being so abrupt.

"I see. I had hoped…" Harlan Garrett began his voice much softer than Scott could ever remember hearing before.

"I had hoped it a temporary inconvenience too," Scott hurriedly filled the uncomfortable silence "but the damage is permanent. I've accepted that now and…"

"You should never have come here!" Garret interrupted in a rage-filled voice "I warned you Scott. I told you no good would come of it! I told Catherine the very same thing! But neither one of you would listen to me and like your mother your life is over…"

"It's not over!" Scott retorted, appalled by his grandfathers assessment.

"As good as!"

"No! Granted it might seem that way at first! I too believed that but not any longer!"

"It's that half-breed's fault!"

"Don't ever call my brother that again!" Scott warned fiercely, moving his chair towards his grandfather before continuing, "It was no ones fault! It was an accident…"

"He caused it! Look at you, you're in that contraption now simply because of his wild and willful behaviour. He 'is' responsible! You should have let that horse trample him. It would have been no loss to humanity, but you Scott! You had so much going for you. The world at your feet but now…"

"Now I'm a helpless cripple?" Scott stared hard at his grandfather, daring further comment, but none was forthcoming. Instead, the older man shifted uneasily and shrunk a little in stature.

Satisfied the older man was listening Scott continued, "You are wrong on both counts! My brother is a good man. He has and continues to make a difference to people's lives…"

Snorting derisively Garret eyed his grandson and exploded in exasperation "He's killed more men than I've shaken hands with…"

"Don't say another word! I don't want to hear it! You have no right to say to say those things…I love my brother!" Scott ground out between clenched teeth as he glared menacingly at his visitor, who now appeared to be taken aback by the last statement.

Silence ensued. The two men stared at each other for one long minute neither one daring to speak for fear of what might come out of their mouth. Finally, tired from the journey and realizing he had made a grave error in openly attacking Murdoch's other son Harlan Garret forced himself to back down.

"I'm forgetting the reason I'm here."

"I won't have you speak about my brother like that…" Scott continued, not willing to let his grandfather think it was okay to say those vile things about Johnny and then simply change the subject.

"Yes, yes unforgivable of me…" Harlan placated all the time avoiding eye contact with his grandson, as he ambled, hands firmly clasped behind his back around the room, "But I'm tired, it has been a long journey and…"

Finally turning to face Scott, Garret purposefully softened his tone and expression "Well it's not easy Scotty, your letter…its contents came as such a shock and when I spoke to Doctor Jenkins he…"

"You've spoken to Doctors Jenkins?" Scott now knew how his grandfather had found out about the circumstances surrounding his accident, as he'd not made mention of them in his letter.

"Yes, I ran in to him in the town. He wouldn't say much of course, patient confidentiality and all that, but he did confirm a paralysis. Still, I had hoped all the way here that I'd find it all to be untrue. You can understand that can't you Scotty? It's come as quite a shock; it will take a little while for me to adjust to seeing you like that!" Garret pointed to the wheeled chair that his grandson now found himself sitting in, with a disdainful thrust of his hand.

Ignoring the distastefulness his grandfather apparently held for his need to now use the special chair for mobility, Scott tried to pacify the man, knowing that after all; he was the one who had asked him to come.

"Yes of course and of course you're tired and…have you eaten? We…I completely forgot! The doctor and his wife are coming for…"

"No Scotty!" Harlan suddenly looked a little perturbed "I have been rather remiss in my obligations. In view of my arrival, the good Doctor has postponed tonight's engagement. Inexcusable of me I know but I failed to pass his missive on to your father!"

Scott breathed a small sigh of relief, grateful for the fact May and Sam Jenkins would be spared what he was certain would now prove to be a rather tense evening.

"We'd best go through and inform him. We can talk further after dinner or perhaps tomorrow would be best. I think we could all do with a good nights rest."

JMLJMLJML

Scott's window was open and Johnny had heard almost every word that passed between the two older men. The raised voices had carried across the courtyard reaching his ears long before he'd arrived at its outer wall. He lingered there, leaning up against its whitewashed surface, knowing he was well out of sight of anyone; but at the same time feeling not one ounce of guilt for eavesdropping on the conversation. All he did feel was anger, anger at himself and a still deeper anger towards Harlan Garret.

He thought he'd dealt with the anger he aimed in his own direction before! He'd accepted to a point that what had happened to Scott hadn't been his fault, but that 'Wild, willful behaviour' comment had hit home! It was true! If he hadn't been acting so irresponsibly, the accident would never have happened! But he couldn't and wouldn't dwell on that now.

What Harlan had said to his brother was unforgivable. "Your life is over" Damn the man to hell! What would he have his own flesh and blood do? Just curl up and die!

Well maybe Scott had come close to thinking that way himself when it first happened. But then he'd watched his brother battle back from the brink with more guts and determination than a hundred men like Garret combined could ever hope to possess.

Hearing Scott stomp all over his grandfather's heartless remark had made his heart soar; but at the same time he'd wondered if it had somehow shaken Scott's hold on his recently found belief. Dios! Why did that old bastardo have to come now!

He'd like to have punched Garret's lights out right there and then, and had even stormed towards the door, ready to break it down to get to the older man. But the fire that burned inside of him had been extinguished upon hearing his brother defend him, and just as he neared the door, Johnny had stopped himself from entering his brother's room.

Moved by Scott's passionate belief in him, he instead had hovered on shaky legs just outside the window. As he had listened to Garret's attempts to pour oil on the troubled waters, it had only served to make him more suspicious of the easterner. Johnny had then quickly decided to bide his time where the older man was concerned, certain now another opportunity to meet him in a head on would sooner or later present itself.

Aware Scott and his grandfather were now making their way back into the great room, so did Johnny, swearing to keep a lid on his temper for now at least! And Dios, por favor, don't let him say anything to his father about Garret saying Scott's life was over. Because if his old man found that out, he wasn't sure he could keep his father from killing the bastard!

TBC

Molly


	19. Chapter 19

By Con and Molly

Broken

Chapter 19

As the door closed behind his father, Scott heaved a weary sigh, relieved to be alone at last. Now he could start to sort through his troubled thoughts and wade carefully through his turbulent emotions. He had been assailed by both throughout the evening, but had somehow managed to set them to one side, determined to both face and deal with them later.

He still hadn't got over the shock of seeing his grandfather standing in the great room. Any joy there might have been on setting eyes on the older man again had been instantly quashed by the heated and hateful exchange he'd witnessed between his grandfather and father.

As bad as that was however, worse was yet to come. Because just minutes later, here in this very room, Harlan Garret had viciously insulted his brother, and wantonly questioned Johnny's very existence! Scott knew his grandfather possessed a wicked tongue, but he had not quite believed him capable of uttering such vitriol. How terribly wrong he had been, because his grandfather had surpassed himself tonight!

Scott closed his eyes at the memory of all the hateful things said about his beloved younger brother. The hate that spewed from his grandfather's mouth was not just because the man thought his brother responsible for his being confined to a wheeled chair. No, there was much more to it than that. Was he so naive, so blind to his grandfather that he had not fully understood before this evening how much the man despised his brother? Had it always been there, just below the surface? Did Johnny know and see that hate? Of course he did!

There was no question that his brother knew fully what Harlan Garret felt for him. Knowing Johnny, and his ability to read people so quickly, he had probably seen it when his grandfather had previously visited Lancer. God what was he thinking sending for him now. He should of…, what? Made arrangements for his own travel? That would have been a laugh. But why didn't he think of what his grandfather's presence would do to his family?

As for the old man's words to him…'your life is over' Scott had tried to hide the hurt they had caused; and God knows they had wounded him badly at the time! Still did, he knew. How could his grandfather have said that to him? The older man had clearly believed it too, such callousness mystified the elder Lancer son. It could not be blamed on tiredness or strain. No, the painful truth was his grandfather looked at him differently now and had neither liking nor respect for what he saw.

Quickly after the words had first been spoken his hurt had turned to anger, but he had forced it down, determined not to give in to it; and somehow dinner had passed without one cross word being spoken, or one raised voice being heard. He had led the conversation, steering it onto topics he felt sure to be safe. His father had also played the game well, chatting amicably, a gracious host.

Johnny on the other hand, had been fairly quiet, but that hadn't surprised Scott. Yet there was something about his sibling that had troubled the blond Lancer, something he could not quite put his finger on, even now thinking back over everything that had happened. He was certain Murdoch had noticed it too, because every now and then he'd caught their father studying his younger son, with a questioning gaze.

Scott intended getting to the bottom of the matter sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, he'd not had the opportunity tonight, because after finishing his meal he had asked if anyone minded if he retired early. Just as he'd hoped, everyone decided to do the same.

Starting to move himself away from the table, Scott had then asked his grandfather to accompany him, along with his father, to observe and perhaps help with the ritual that would see him safely to bed.

His grandfather had quickly hidden his initial alarm at the request and suggested that perhaps as Masters would be helping him during their travel back to Boston it would be best for the manservant to accompany them . But Scott hadn't missed the change of expression on his grandfather's face, nor his desire not to have anything to do with his grandson's care, and he knew his father and brother hadn't either. Johnny had stomped from the room, heading outside; Murdoch had exhaled loudly, something he tended to do when trying to hide his irritation over something. Scott had insisted however, using a quiet voice, and the older man had nodded his head in acquiescence.

The trio had been in Scott's bedroom for mere minutes when the Bostonian had unashamedly excused himself blaming exhaustion for his retreat. It had been just as Murdoch was helping him remove his pants, and his grandfather had seen the protective cloth that his grandson now wore. Scott had simply smiled and wished the older man a good night. His father however, had glowered after him but on sensing his elder son's eyes upon him he'd clamped his mouth shut, softened his expression, and retrieved the commode from the corner of the room. To Scott's great relief it seemed his father wasn't quite ready to discuss his grandfather's apparent abhorrence to his physical condition.

But his father did try, on two separate occasions, to steer the conversation to what had taken place earlier in his room, just after his grandfather's arrival. However, Murdoch had not used his normal direct approach to getting the information he wanted; but rather he had tried to elicit information through thinly veiled questions devised to cover-up his piqued interest in what had been said. Scott however, had seen through his father's awkwardness at subtlety, and turned the conversation towards his need for a new book to read, and perhaps a shorter version of the evening leg exercises.

Finally when satisfied his son was comfortable and wanting for nothing the rancher had left the room. There had been a small smile on the older man's face when he gave his customary squeeze to his son's shoulder before saying good night. Scott knew it was mirrored on his own face; both men trying to reassure the other that everything was ok with them!

It wasn't of course, but right at that moment there was nothing either one of them could do to alter things.

But tomorrow…

JMLJMLJML

Murdoch had sent Maria home as soon as she had served dessert. He didn't want her upset by anything she might see or overhear, and it had seemed a very real possibility that all hell would break loose at some point that evening.

It hadn't though and didn't seem likely to now that Garret was tucked up in bed! It riled Murdoch to think that their so-called guest, the cause of their woes, would probably be the only one in the hacienda to get a decent night sleep!

After leaving Scott's room, it had taken him a good hour to clear the dinner table, wash, dry and stack the array of cutlery and china for Maria to put in its proper place in the morning. Normally he would have been irritated at having to clean up all this finery, but tonight he had been glad of the distraction. Finishing up he looked outside the kitchen window and then the large window as he passed through the great room. Both times looking for his younger son. He'd hoped Johnny would return before he finished cleaning up and made his way to bed, but as he entered his bedroom, his younger son had still to put in an appearance.

As he paced the floor Murdoch's thoughts flitted between his sons, he worried so over both of them. He feared losing Scott to Boston and he agonized over the possible reasons for the pain he'd seen in his younger son's eyes. He didn't know how he had been able to hold his tongue at dinner; so much had he wanted to confront his younger boy about what was wrong, what had happened to put that pain in his eyes.

Murdoch could have, he knew, justifiably pointed an accusatory finger in Harlan's direction at dinner, but he knew Johnny would not have thanked him for it. Instead he'd painted on his own face a sedate expression and willed the time to pass quickly. All the while acting the congenial host, to a man who had done more to destroy him than all the land pirates combined over the years had been able to do. And as he sat in his room by the window looking out into the moonlit yard, he knew that Harlan Garret was still capable of bringing him to his knees, one more time, if he succeeded in taking his older boy from him again.

He rose from his chair and walked to the stand where he always kept a decanter of scotch and a couple of clean glasses. Sometimes over the years, he had preferred drinking alone in this room, reminded by the surrounding memories placed here by both of his wives.

Maria had wanted to rid the room of Catherine's cherished things: a small porcelain statue of a boy sitting at the feet of his mother and father; a carved wooden jewelry box, which was still filled with her beautiful jewelry, that he had placed in the bottom of his armoire at Maria's request, and then later retrieved and set on his dresser when she had left him. And then there were the two winged back chairs shipped from Boston. The chairs were still his favorite and he had sat in them nightly with Catherine as they discussed the day's work, their future, and their plans for children. After her death, he sat alone, grieving for her and his lost son, and having hateful thoughts about her father.

When he had married Maria and brought her to Lancer she had liked the chairs too, that was until she found out that they were bought by Catherine. Then like the figurine and jewelry box, they had also been banished from the room for a while. But along with the other things, he had moved them back in, and kept them as part of his 'memory box', just like he had kept Maria's things: the Mexican rug they had found in the small town they had stopped in on the way back to Lancer after their whirlwind courtship and marriage; the silver candlesticks placed on the dresser, that were a wedding gift to them from the Conway's; the beautiful quilt that lay across the bottom of the bed.

Both women were long gone, but their memories remained and their sons were now home with him at Lancer; and by God, that was where they both were going to stay! Swallowing the fiery liquid that remained in his glass, he knew now that he would not let Scott leave here without a fight. Not this time, not any more.

He refilled his glass and walked back and sat down again near the window. Thinking back to the end of dinner when Scott had asked his grandfather to assist in helping him to bed. The man ought to be tarred and feathered for the appalling look he gave his own supposedly 'beloved' grandson! How dare he have the nerve to suggest his own manservant be the one to do it!

Murdoch remembered Johnny's reaction, stomping off, slamming the door in his wake. He had thought for a moment that the boy was going to grab the old man by the throat. But Scott had just ignored it all, told the older Bostonian that he did not want Masters, but his grandfather. Well Harlan had come, but damn the man, he left as soon as Murdoch had started helping his son prepare for bed!

Didn't the old bastard know how much he was hurting Scott? There didn't seem to be any end to the things that man was capable of doing to hurt others.

As Harlan had fled his elder boy's room he had attempted twice to use subtlety to try to find out what had happened between Scott and his grandfather earlier in the evening, but on both occasions the subject had been changed by his son, and he was sure Scott had seen through the mask.

However, tomorrow he would tackle each son in turn. He'd make them open up and find out what that man had said or done, and be damned with being subtle, not that he was any good at it. No, tomorrow, he would do it his way, which he should have done a long time ago.

JMLJMLJMLJMLJMLJML

'Maybe I should have jest held my tongue. It don't always do ta interfere in matters ya don't fully understand!'

With that thought Jelly turned around and stared back the way he had just come, his eyes settling on the barn. The door was open; the interior lit by an oil lamp, eerie shadows flickered on its inner walls, cast by the pacing figure of the youngest Lancer.

Jelly sighed and shivered in the cool breeze that seemed to now blow through him rather than around him. A frown deepened the furrows on his brow, as he pondered on the evening's events.

Walt had warned him that 'he' was here and the hand hadn't neglected to tell his whiskered friend that there had already been some sort of a ruckus at the house. 'It couldn't have been pretty,' Jelly thought ruefully 'not with ole Harlan and the Boss hollerin' at each other like some fresh cut bulls!'

The handyman was supposed to have joined the Lancer family and their expected guests for dinner, but on finding out about Harlan's unexpected presence he had decided to eat in the kitchen. No way was he going to get all cozy across the dinner table with that fancy talkin' varmint.

So Jelly had settled himself at the kitchen table looking forward to a quiet chat with Maria. Only that wasn't to be either. The hall door had swung open and in had walked yet another fancy talking snake! One look at the beady little eyes and Jelly knew Garret's manservant couldn't be trusted either.

Jelly had been put right off his supper, and had simply pushed his food around his plate. Masters on the other hand had left an empty plate; he'd also taken quite a shine to the bottle of 'wine' Maria liked to use in her beef dishes. The cook had inadvertently left it on the table and hadn't dared tell the aloof stranger that it wasn't intended for drinking!

One glass of the 'red demon', as Murdoch called it, and Masters was loosening his perfectly presented necktie. It seemed to have had the same effect on his tongue because he then started to relax, so losing his starched air, and even becoming something remotely resembling friendly!

But where as Jelly didn't mind seeing the Valet without so many airs and graces, Maria did; and with the courage of her convictions, she set a pot of coffee before the visitor, and deftly removed the offending bottle before Masters could polish off the remainder of its contents.

The man had sobered quickly with the black brew, but not before he'd imparted with something that had plagued Jelly ever since.

"Mr. Garret will do what's best for the boy. After all no one wants him paraded around for all to see like some fairground freak now do they?"

It had seemed quite an innocent comment on the surface, but it had stuck in Jelly's craw all the same. Warning bells had rung and he'd just been about to excuse himself and somehow get Johnny's attention, when the devil himself had stuck his head around the door.

"Masters!"

The Valet had hurried after his employer, answering the demand as if his life depended on it.

Jelly had immediately made his way to the great room only to find it empty. After ascertaining the young man wasn't in his brother's room the handyman had set about looking for him elsewhere. The barn or rather Barranca was to be his next stop.

When he'd first found Johnny he'd been sitting on a bale of hay, shoulders hunched and head bowed. He'd looked a mighty pitiful site. The young man's demeanour had troubled Jelly greatly, and yet, he somehow preferred seeing him like that than pacing as agitatedly as he was now.

Of course, he knew the ranch's unexpected visitor was behind Johnny's melancholy, and he had thought twice about repeating what the manservant had said, or rather what he had hinted at. The handyman was unsure of how the boy would take it, and had been edging away from the doorway when he'd been spotted. Johnny had called him in, insisting he share what was on his mind.

The young man had listened silently, nodding his understanding, before insisting Jelly get himself to bed.

"You'll tell the Boss?" Jelly had asked believing the boy's father needed to be in the know too.

"Sure". Johnny had answered quietly.

The boy had avoided eye contact and he'd sounded none too convincing with his reply, and that had worried Jelly. Johnny often dealt with things alone, and in his own way. But Jelly knew it wouldn't be wise for the youngest Lancer to go it alone this time.

Deciding that Johnny had made it quite plain that he wanted to be on his own, and knowing that Harlan Garret had retired for the night, Jelly told himself to leave things as they were for now and deal with them in the morning. As another sigh escaped his lips, he turned back around and headed for his own bed.

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Rage had driven him from the great room, propelling him swiftly towards the barn. Once there he slammed the door behind him, reaping some satisfaction from the noise of the impact. Johnny never had been able to work out why such a demonstration of anger helped ease the frustration he felt at such times but it always did!

But the angry display of his temper had startled the horses too, and on realising that, he quickly stepped over to them, reassuring each one in turn.

As he stroked and patted the unsettled animals he felt his anger ebbing away; the act itself a soothing balm that allowed him to reach inside of himself, to bring his anger under control. His own horse appeared to be the most affected by his outburst, and when he was finally convinced Barranca had forgiven him for disturbing his rest, he had opened the door, retrieved the lamp hanging just outside, lit it, and then settled himself down on a nearby bale of hay.

He liked the atmosphere of the barn. The uncomplicated feel it had about it. There were no emotions to charge the air, no bad feelings to make heavy the soul. It seemed all four legged creatures were above that sort of thing. It was as if they had been there before and had seen the error of their ways and learnt from them. Man never did!

'Yes' Johnny thought 'man could learn a lot from what they believed to be dumb creatures.'

And talking about dumb creatures! Harlan Garret had to be the dumbest of them all. Dumb, mean, selfish, thoughtless, ignorant, arrogant…vile, cruel, heartless…STOP! Johnny told himself as his mind reeled off an endless list of words to help him in his quest to summarize his brother's grandfather. Nothing seemed to fit the bill, each word as inadequate as the next.

"Damn the man" Johnny spat, how could he treat his own grandson in such a cold and heartless manner? Dios, the bastardo was obviously incapable of love! Any kind of love, much less the unconditional love he himself had found existed since coming to Lancer. The sort of love his father had for his sons; the sort he realised he too possessed for his family.

Hell, it didn't matter to him if his father grew two heads or married the old hag that ran the brothel in town; he wouldn't…well he wouldn't care for him any less. He hated seeing his brother in the wheeled chair. Hated knowing what restrictions it put upon him, but he didn't think of him as being less of a man. No, if anything his feelings of respect and pride had multiplied. Scott deserved that from his grandfather too! It should have been a given, but after hearing what he had heard tonight from that old bastard he knew that pride and respect couldn't be further from the truth.

Dios! The way the man seemed almost disgusted at having to do anything for his grandson! And Scott had seemed so calm and collected tonight, almost too in control of his emotions! That worried Johnny too, Scott should be hurt, angry, but he looked to have accepted it all…but surely not! Surely he'd heard enough to stop him returning to…who the hell? Johnny's hand instantly went to his gun, his fingers wrapping around the cold steel as his eyes tried to focus on what he'd sensed rather than seen by the doorway.

"Jelly? What you doing out there? Are you trying to get yourself shot? Ain't I told you enough times already about sneaking up on me?"

The older man harrumphed as he ambled into the barn "I wasn't sneakin' anywheres! I was jest tryin' ta figure out if ya was approachable or whether I was gonna get my head bitten off!"

"Shot off more like it!" Johnny snapped back, but his irritation was quick to disperse on seeing his friend absently twist his hat between his hands; that was a sure fire giveaway that something was troubling him deeply.

The handyman had needed a little coaxing into revealing his reasons for being there, but had finally repeated to Johnny what was worrying him.

When Jelly had finished telling him what old man Garret's manservant had said, the youngest Lancer hadn't trusted himself to speak right then; and he knew he couldn't promise to repeat it to his father so he made no pretence of doing so!

As Jelly left he'd gotten to his feet and started to pace, hoping to walk out his anger and burn off some energy, because if he didn't he knew he'd head straight to Garrets room and work it off there! Maybe that was just where he needed to go, because he sure as hell wasn't going to let that cold-hearted devil take his brother away from Lancer and lock him up somewhere.

Nope, Johnny knew that he would never let that happen. But he couldn't let his anger take over. He needed to get it all back under control, and then tomorrow…

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Harlan Garret watched as his manservant turned down his bed. Masters had earlier brought in fresh water and had procured a decanter of brandy and a glass from the great room and set both on the table between the bed and the upholstered chair. After the bed was ready, he dismissed the servant and told him to wake him by seven o'clock, not before, not later.

Finally, alone he sat down and thought about what he had just witnessed. He had been terribly upset when he had received his grandson's letter telling him of what happened. The letter had not been long, nor had it contained much information. When he had arrived in Green River, Masters had quickly rented a suitable carriage, and obtained directions to Dr. Jenkins office. It was from Jenkins that he had learned what actually happened, and the condition of Scott.

How he hated Murdoch Lancer and his half-breed son! His Scott was ruined and it was their fault. Oh Murdoch had not been around when it happened Harlan knew that, but if the man had just left Scott alone. All those years he had trashed the man's letters, his gifts, thwarted all his efforts to have contact with Scott. So many years without hearing from a father, you would have thought that the one contact having gotten through to the boy would have been ignored!

But no! His grandson apparently had harbored some deep need to see the man. Harlan had done everything he could to dissuade him from traveling out to this godforsaken country. He had even threatened to disown him, disinherit him, but nothing worked. He had to come here, and just look at him now.

My god, he wore a, a… well one couldn't even speak of it. It was abhorrent to even think about it all. When Dr. Jenkins had told him he was paralyzed from the waist down he could not comprehend it. It wasn't until he actually had seen his grandson in the horrible wheeled contraption that he had an understanding. But even then he had not thought of what it meant. Not until he was in the room tonight, that is. Now he fully understood.

Reaching for the bottle and pouring another brandy, he contemplated the implications of it all. Well Scott was useless now. Oh he would take him home to Boston, care for him. It was his obligation of course, and he would be damned if he wanted him to stay here with his former son-in-law, even as a cripple. But he could no longer work by his side, or even be seen in Boston society.

No, he would need to find a new heir for Garret Enterprise. Someone he could groom to take over. Scott would be kept in the mansion, preferably in his upstairs room. He could make the next room into a workroom, having work sent home for him. After all he had a first rate mind, and the boy would want to do something. The young man would understand after a while, that it was best he stayed inside though. Yes Scott would need to understand that while it may be alright to be seen here as a cripple, it just wouldn't do in Boston society. No just wouldn't do at all.

Harlan finished his drink and moved to the bed. He would discuss things with Masters tomorrow, and have him send the necessary wires to make the arrangements needed to Scott's rooms. The manservant would need to know the details of his grandson's useless condition, to also arrange for the necessary additional staff, which would need to be hired before their arrival back in Boston. Yawning he decided to discuss it all tomorrow with Masters while he served him breakfast. Afterwards his long-time manservant could leave for Green River to attend to the telegrams.

Well now that plans were made, his mind could finally rest, and a good night sleep was just what he needed. Tomorrow they would start the arrangements and soon after they could be on their way, never to return to this barren wasteland.

TBC

Con and Molly


	20. Chapter 20

Broken Chapter 20

Murdoch stared into his shaving mirror; a set of tired eyes stared back, stark evidence of the restive night he had endured.

What little sleep he had, had been plagued with a bad dream. A dream in which he'd hurried through a cold and dark hacienda, searching frantically for his sons. Panic had risen up in his chest, and his heart had pounded painfully upon realising they were both gone.

The scene had then turned to the great room, where he had stood all alone. The silence that had engulfed him was unbearable, but all too soon it had been replaced by endless mocking laughter. In his dream he had covered his ears and ground out the name of the man responsible for the merciless gloating, and then he'd damned Harlan Garret to hell just before he awoke.

The sense of desolation had clung to the rancher as he had risen from his bed, shrouding him in a heavy foreboding; but Murdoch had determinedly shrugged off the unease reminding himself of the promise he had made the night before: He would not allow Garret to cause him such heartache ever again.

The sun had barely climbed above the horizon but as early as it was, he'd set about his morning ritual, eager to get on with what he knew would be a crucial day; where the future of Lancer was concerned.

Lathering up his face he then reached for his razor, guiding the blade firmly and confidently over the contours hidden beneath the foam; efficiently removing the stubble just like he intended to remove another irritant in his life.

Ten minutes later he was dressed and entering the hallway, heading for his younger son's bedroom. He rapped lightly on the door then stepped inside, disappointment clouding his face on finding the room empty.

The bed was plenty disheveled, which offered Murdoch some reassurance. At least Johnny had gone to bed at some point during the night, even if it seemed he'd only tossed and turned just like his father had done.

But where was he now? Murdoch was itching to talk to the boy, even though he was sure it would prove to be a matter of making him talk! Hurrying down the back stairs he was soon in the kitchen that too was empty, but the stove was lit and the coffee pot warm to the touch. Johnny had obviously passed that way not too long ago, but what direction had he since taken?

"He can't have gone far" Murdoch told himself, certain his younger boy would not have left the ranch, not the way things were with Scott right now! Instinct told him his younger boy had again retreated to the quiet of the barn, the need for continued seclusion worrying him a little more.

Normally he would respect that need and keep his distance, hoping the boy would come to him when he was good and ready. But this time it was different; this time something was telling him to get his self out there and simply get on with tackling the younger man head on.

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Johnny recognised the heavy tread immediately, and was aware that there was a certain determination about it this morning. He groaned quietly to himself, knowing his father was seeking him out, and that in a minute or so he would have found him. The thing was Johnny wasn't quite ready to talk to him yet! But it apparently wouldn't matter, because once his old man made up his mind to do something, there really was no stopping him.

As the barn door swung open he stared in its direction, determined to play for time he greeted the older man with a cheerful "Good morning."

"Is it?"

He hadn't expected such a question to be thrown back at him and Johnny found himself looking down at his feet, desperate to avoid his father's searching gaze. Seconds later the rancher was easing his much larger frame down onto the bale of hay where the younger Lancer son himself was perched.

A set of brown eyes stared intensely at him and Johnny prepared himself for the stern no-nonsense voice that usually accompanied those eyes, and was a bit taken aback when a firm but gentle voice addressed him.

"I'm not going to beat about the bush John, and neither am I prepared to listen to half a tale so tell me what happened last night? What exactly did you overhear?"

Johnny shook his head, "You ain't gonna like it Old Man!"

Laying one hand on Johnny's thigh Murdoch squeezed reassuringly, "I didn't for one minute think I would. Now tell me."

"He told Scott his life was over...that he was useless" Johnny tensed as he felt his father bristle beside him. He had only ever heard his old man cuss mildly before and despite the circumstances was a little surprised when several bunk house expletives erupted from his lips.

Johnny knew Murdoch was now trying to contain his anger and so waited for some signal to continue, in time it came. The older man took a deep breath, releasing it slowly before he spoke.

"What did Scott say to that?"

"He wasn't having any of it...he said he'd believed that too at first but not any longer."

"And?" Murdoch pressed.

"He was spitting fire; I'd like to think Harlan got the message but..."

"But what?"

Staring into the older mans eyes Johnny replied, "I know if Scott does go back to Boston his life will be over! That bastard looks at him differently now. He sees an inconvenience...something shameful...something that should be hidden away!"

"He said that?" Murdoch growled.

"No! He didn't have to, but that Masters let slip something to Jelly, something that...well it just confirms my suspicions."

"Well, Scott's not going back to Boston." Murdoch stated.

"He's not! He told you that? "Johnny's heart lightened at the apparent certainty in his father's voice.

"No. I haven't spoken to your brother yet this morning, but I will and by the time I've finished with him he'll realise that leaving isn't an option!"

Johnny eyed the older man curiously, determination positively oozed from every pore and right there and then the youngest Lancer had no doubts that his father would indeed perform the said feat. His curiosity swiftly turned to admiration then just as quickly to unease as his father eyed him questioningly.

"And what is it you haven't told me? What venom did Harlan spit your way?"

Taken aback by such intuitiveness Johnny could only stare at the older man, he had wanted to unburden himself to his father but not now! He no longer wanted to share that part of the overheard conversation now that Murdoch had his mind calmly and methodically set on keeping his brother at Lancer. That was the most important thing after all and anyway, he didn't really deserve the salve his father would attempt to heap on his wounds. Shaking his head he started to make a denial, "Nothing..."

"Don't lie to me John!" Murdoch interrupted, "That comment about Scott not having 'any of it' tells me to the contrary! So you tell me Son, what did that man say?"

Shrugging Johnny fished frantically for something to appease the older man, but suddenly found himself sharing some of what he overheard with his father. "He blames me and well...you can't blame him for that Murdoch! It hurt yeah but he hurt Scott a whole lot more...don't let's forget about that!"

The patriarch fumed silently. Harlan Garret could cut a man to the quick with his tongue; he'd been on the receiving end enough times in the past to know that. Looking at his son, he knew that Johnny had only shared a small part of what had been said, but from his son's eyes it was obvious to him that the overheard conversation had packed a bone shattering punch! Damn the man! He'd be rid of him today even if it took his very last breath to do so!

"I won't be forgetting Son, not what he said to your brother, not what he said about you, not any of it! Now come on, let's go see if Scott is awake."

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What was going on? He'd twice heard someone in the kitchen and each time the closing of the outside door. Scott was certain it was his father and brother who had left the house. They probably got as little sleep as he, which would explain them being up earlier than usual; but not where they had gone!

Half an hour or so had passed since he heard the kitchen door close, and he was getting impatient to get up. If his father hadn't moved his chair over to the wall, he would have been able to get himself in it by now and done what he could to ready himself for the day.

They weren't late and so obviously he didn't have any cause to believe they had forgotten about him. Not that he believed they ever would. But he was most anxious to get up and ready this morning, and hoped that one of them would come to his room soon.

Hopefully it would be Johnny who came to help him this morning, so he could find out what had happened last evening. He'd make the boy cough up what was troubling him so; then they would have breakfast and then would come the difficult bit! He wasn't sure if he was looking forward to that or not, but the sooner it was done the better!

Hearing the back door open, Scott strained to hear the muffled voices; both his father and brother were in the kitchen now and...yes...someone was heading his way. The absence of jangling spurs told him it wasn't his brother. When his father stepped into the room he smiled over at him asking, "You were up before the birds this morning, anything wrong?"

"Only your decision to return to Boston, so let's talk about that Son!"

"Murdoch..."

Holding up his hand to silence his son Murdoch moved to stand beside Scott's bed, there he drew up a chair and sat down upon it, "When I said talk what I really meant was I would talk and you would listen..."

"Murdoch!"

"I said listen Scott and I meant it!" Murdoch Lancer may have missed out on being a father to this boy for many years, but twenty-six years plus of being a rancher had honed his skills in silencing even the most recalcitrant ranch hands into listening to him. Thus he knew that employing that same voice here, would also work well in silencing his son, albeit if just long enough for the elder Lancer to have his say.

The blond Lancer clamped his mouth shut, silently promising to be the obedient son his father wanted, at least for the moment. Seeing his son acquiesce to his command, Murdoch continued:

"If I thought Boston was the best place for you I'd take you there myself, no matter how much it broke my heart to do so. I've only ever wanted what was best for you, and I know I've made mistakes on that front in the past just like I know letting you go back there now would be yet another mistake. Maybe the worst one of all.

"I'm not prepared to forsake you again, and that's exactly what I would be doing if I let your Grandfather take you back with him. He might love you in his own way Scott, but not in the way he should, or importantly, in the way you deserve. And certainly not like your brother and I love you, Son.

"This is your home, and this is where you belong. I know you know that deep down too! I know you're scared, that you feel yourself to be a burden and abhor the very idea of being such.

"I believe that you see Boston simply as a means to an end, which is by leaving here it relieves Lancer of the burden you see yourself to be.

"I've never known you to be wrong before Scott; after all you're blessed with your mother's wisdom. But this time Son you are very wrong. Maybe it's the wrong-headedness you inherited from me that's marring your judgment now, but whatever it is, you are wrong in your thinking and in the decision you have made.

"I was prepared to let you leave with your Grandfather the last time he visited because I believed that was what you wanted. I'm not prepared to make that same mistake again and I won't! You're not going anywhere Scott. I won't allow it! I will not let that man take you from here. Have I made myself clear?"

There, he had finally said what he had wanted to say all along, albeit the last few words a little louder and sterner than he had wanted. But by God he had to make Scott understand that he was not going to let him leave, no matter what the boy wanted. It was wrong, so very wrong!

Murdoch sat back in the chair and took a deep breath. He had said what needed to be said; now he waited for his son to speak.

Silence ensued. He waited a few minutes, closing his eyes for a brief moment, before returning his gaze to his son.

He had expected his son to be angry at him, and was prepared for a fight. After all, Scott was perhaps the most stubborn of the three of them, and was fiercely independent. And he had just told him in a tone that did not allow for discussion, that he was making the decision for him; he was going to forbid Scott to leave, even if he wanted to. So he waited for what he was sure was going to be a just as firm and decisive rebuttal. He was prepared. This was one battle he would not loose.

But as he looked as his older boy, he realized he was not at all prepared for the reaction his words were actually receiving.

Scott was smiling at him; no, not smiling, he had a huge grin on his face, not one he could ever remember seeing. This was not what he had prepared himself for, and he was beginning to get agitated in seeing the , silly look on his older boy's face, and wait, now he was starting to laugh at him!

"Would you care to share with me, young man, what you find so amusing about what I just said? Because I can tell you that I see nothing funny about this!" Murdoch's voice bellowed as he folded his arms across his chest and waited.

The elder Lancer son spent a few moments regaining his composure and just as he was about to speak, Scott heard a shuffle in the hallway outside his partially open door. He turned his head and called out the door.

"You want to come and join us little Brother, or just continue standing in the hall eavesdropping?"

Johnny silently pushed open the door, and slowly walked in. He had told his father he would wait in the kitchen and knew the old man would not be happy to see him. The look on the old man's face told him he was right, but well, he couldn't help it. He needed to make sure his father convinced Scott to stay, and sometimes, well sometimes as Jelly said, Murdoch didn't always chew his words before he spit them out!

"Sorry. I know that ain't something I would want either of you to do to me, so don't know why I was, ya know, listening, but well, I'm sorry." Hopefully by apologizing right off, he could head off his father's anger. And apparently he was right, 'cause the old man had nodded his head at him, and had turned back to Scott.

"Before we were interrupted," he looked pointedly at Johnny before resuming, "you were about to share with me what you found so amusing about what I had said to you, and I'm still waiting to hear your explanation young man!"

Scott nodded his head and looked at both of them; his father sitting so straight and tall in the chair by his bed, arms crossed tightly across his chest; his brother standing next to him, placing a tentative hand on Murdoch's shoulder. How could he ever leave them?

"It wasn't that I found what you said funny, or amusing, because I didn't. It was just that, well, I just started thinking while you were talking that perhaps Johnny and I were a bit rash in thinking it would have been so much better if we had grown up here; because I'm not sure that coming in late as an 18 year old, I would have wanted to incur the wrath of Murdoch Lancer, angry father, and the lecture..." but before he could go on, Johnny had started laughing causing Scott to break into a laughing fit himself. Murdoch waited a few moments before he decided he had enough.

"Scott! And you too, Johnny, enough! I'm trying to be serious here and..."

"Murdoch wait," Scott interrupted, reaching for his father's hand as he tried to bring his laugher under control. Murdoch unfolded his arms and placed his large callused hand in the hand of his son. Scott took a deep breath before continuing:

"I know you were being serious and I, well, thank you for telling me what I know was not easy for you to say. I want you to know that it means more to me, than I can ever say: knowing how you feel about me that you love me and want me here, that you always have.

"But you should also know that last night as I laid here unable to sleep, I thought about me, what I need and still want in my life. Even though my life has been altered in a way I never could have imagined it would be, I still feel that I can have a fulfilling life, as you have been trying to tell me. And well, I already came to the same decision. I was wrong to ever think for a moment that I could go back to Boston, especially now." He looked down at his legs and over at the chair.

"I know that it won't be easy here, it wouldn't be easy anywhere, but this is my home and is where I belong. I hope that as time goes on I learn to do more..."

Before he could go on, he heard a loud yell, and found his brother jumping on the bed and engulfing him in a tight embrace.

"You better mean it big Brother," Johnny said as he punched Scott on the arm, "cause I have ta tell you, I wasn't gonna let you leave here anymore than the old man was. I tell you I didn't care who I had to shoot, you weren't going anywhere with that bastardo!

"John!" His father admonished him, although half-heartedly, as Harland Garret was that and more.

Johnny backed off, and moved to sit on the opposite side of the bed. He looked at his father and brother, both smiling. It was a start, but there was still Garret to deal with.

Murdoch sat for a few minutes, content as he looked at both of his sons, but then suddenly; he slapped his hands against his knees and rose from the chair.

"Well now that we have that issue settled, you need to get ready for the day Son. Scott I know you will want to talk with your Grandfather, but perhaps that can wait until we have you up and ready, and breakfast is served. Will that be alright with you?"

Scott nodded his acquiescence, as he certainly did not want to have the conversation with his grandfather while he was lying prone on his bed, unable to move. At least in his wheeled chair, he could maneuver around. He would need to have that ability in having what would be a very difficult discussion with his grandfather, especially since he was the one that summoned Harlan Garret to Lancer in the first place.

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Johnny and Murdoch worked quickly, assisting Scott with his morning routine. As they worked in silence together, each knowing what to do without asking, they were lost in their thoughts; all independently thinking of Harlan Garret.

Murdoch knew that he would allow Scott his conversation, but as soon as possible he was also going to have one with his former father-in-law. And for once, it would not be a civil conversation based on polite society rules. No not this time. Harlan needed to hear some hard truths, and Murdoch was going to make sure that he listened.

Johnny was just finishing putting Scott's shaving things aside as he reached for the water to take it back to the kitchen. It was a good time for him to leave, as Murdoch could finish up with Scott without him. They may want to wait and sit down to breakfast together, but he wasn't going to sit down for a meal with that old man ever again. He wanted to make sure he got to Garret before Scott talked to him 'cause he was damn sure he never wanted to hear that man tell his brother he was useless again. Johnny didn't give a damn what the old bastardo thought of him; but his brother was another thing altogether and he would not allow the old man to hurt Scott anymore.

Maria had arrived and was busy in the kitchen as the youngest Lancer passed through, the tiny woman in the process of scrambling eggs and frying bacon. The aroma would normally make Johnny's mouth water and his belly groan with need, but not this morning; all his senses were honed in on the inhabitants of the south wing and one in particular.

Flashing a smile and a cheery greeting in the housekeeper's direction he quickened his pace, hungry for something a lot less palatable!

The view from Garret's room was one of the most scenic the hacienda offered. Guests frequently commented on the lush and tranquil panorama; but the dark haired Lancer was certain the Bostonian had looked out at it with little more than scorn.

'Well...' Johnny told himself, 'ole Harlan might not remember the view when he leaves here, but there was no danger of him ever forgetting what he was about to hear.'

As he reached the short passageway that lead on to the guest rooms, the young man heard footsteps up ahead; then seconds later catching a quick glimpse of Masters just before he entered his employer's room.

"Damn it!" Johnny spat irritably, what he had to say couldn't wait! Well there was no way he was leaving the vicinity until he'd said his piece, so waiting it seemed was something he was just gonna have to do.

Hovering just a few feet away from his prey's door Johnny realised it was in fact ajar. The voices of the guest room's occupants could clearly be heard. Grinning wryly to himself he was forced to admit that eavesdropping was becoming a bit of a bad habit where he was concerned, and also that the old adage rang true; eavesdroppers never did hear any good about themselves!

Not that he'd heard anything of any interest so far mind. Garret was wittering on about breakfast and Masters was simply saying yes sir no sir in all the right places!

But the conversation soon changed and Johnny perked up his ears listening intently. It seemed the valet was to make a trip into town after breakfast. The telegraph office his first port of call. He was to send several telegrams, the first to Harlan's lawyer, as he wanted to make an important change to his will the moment he returned!

Johnny tensed; maybe his imagination or mistrust of the older man was getting the better of him but he couldn't help but wonder if that meant Scott would no longer inherit Garret Enterprises?

The next wire was to be sent to a construction company, one who specialised in adapting properties, they were to begin immediately on remodeling the rooms on the second floor. The transformation was to include a specially adapted bedroom and office!

"Second floor?" The youngest Lancer repeated to himself. How the hell was his brother supposed to negotiate the goddamn stairs? The answer to that came quickly, he wasn't and for the simple reason that once there...he'd remain there!

His suspicions were being ruthlessly confirmed and faced with their reality he suddenly felt sick. The thought of his brother living...existing like that made his blood run cold.

So Garret really did intend hiding him away like some freak of nature. If Scott had still been intent on leaving, then that would indeed have been his fate!

The last telegram was to his housekeeper. The said Mrs. Bonner was to acquire, with as little fuss as was possible, a nurse or someone with the experience needed to care for a cripple and his needs!

Johnny had never cared for the word cripple and the tone in which it had just been spoken made him despise it even more; Garret had made it sound like some contagious and deadly disease.

But as much as that angered Johnny worse was to come, Garret was soon voicing the fact that he himself couldn't be expected to do such things for his grandson, and would certainly not be inconvenienced by them either.

Scott had proven himself foolish; he'd gone against his guardian's wishes and had paid dearly for his mistake. Garrett would ensure the boy realised that and that he severed all ties with his oaf of a father and killer half-breed brother!

Johnny had heard more than enough! Temper soaring out of control he stepped towards the door, reached out his hand and shoved it open, the force used sending it crashing backwards into the wall.

His entrance had obviously startled the two older men, but Garret quickly recovered, hiding his unease with a sneer as he addressed his valet.

"You will have to excuse the boy Masters, his upbringing was decidedly lacking in a great many things, good manners being just one of them. Unfortunately his father's influence has been of no consequence!"

Eying the man servant Johnny gestured to the door and spat "Out!"

Alarmed the man looked questioningly at his employer.

"It's alright Masters, as you can see he's not wearing his gun!"

The valet hesitated briefly then left the room.

Apparently unruffled Harlan gazed steadily at the younger man. "I take it this isn't a social call."

"As social as you're gonna get!" The dark haired Lancer growled back.

"Ah! Intimidation? You're here to persuade me in some way to leave Scotty here!"

"I'm here..." Johnny began now trying to keep all trace of emotion out of his voice, "...to tell you to play nice..."

"Play nice!" Harlan spat in disbelief. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that when you next see Scott, you keep all those nasty little thoughts of yours to yourself! That you tell him how proud you are of him. Then you're gonna tell him you're leaving, just you and Masters, and that you wish him and all at Lancer only well for the future..."

"How dare you!" Garret raged. He was a man used to giving not taking orders, and he certainly wasn't going to be spoken to in this manner, by the worthless piece of scum now standing before him. "Scott is coming home with me..."

"Home!" Johnny snarled back. "Hidden away upstairs, cared for by strangers!" Gesturing wildly around him he added, "No! This is his home! This is where he rightly belongs!"

"Under the same roof as a gun hawk and halfwit? I think not! No! Scott will be returning to Boston with me! And once there he'll realise what coming out here has cost him. He's not going to want to know you then boy, not when he's made to accept the part you played in ruining his life. He's going to end up hating you, seeing you for what you really are...the murderous spawn of a Mexican whore and a ..."

"GRANDFATHER!" Scott shouted menacingly as he propelled his wheelchair further into the room. Neither man had realised he was there, while he had sat guiltlessly listening to their heated exchange.

His gaze moved to each man in turn and he noted the contrasting emotions each wore on their face. Johnny's showed anguish, while the older man's was contorted with hatred.

His brother spoke first, a single word spoken in an apologetic tone "Scott..."

Damn it! Johnny owed him no apologies! He raised his hand to silence the younger man then turned to his grandfather addressing him woefully.

"I don't recognise the man standing there. I just don't know you anymore! And I don't believe I want to."

"Scott?" Garret took a step closer to his grandson, staring questioningly at him.

The blond Lancer shook his head, unconsciously emphasising his disappointment, "I used to care what you thought about me, your good opinion something I actively sought and when bestowed, treasured. But I respected you then. You were something I aspired to be. But not any longer..."

"Scotty! What are you saying? You don't know what went on here!" Gesturing to Johnny Garret continued "He threatened me...he wants me to tell you to stay!"

"He had no reason to do either. I'd already told him I was staying!"

"Staying! In this Godforsaken place..."

"I'll tell you my definition of a Godforsaken place..." Scott cut across the older man's words... "to me it means a loveless and lonely environment, God himself knows that Lancer is anything but that! Boston on the other hand or rather the grand house you expect me to now vegetate in fits the expression perfectly. No matter what you believe I know I deserve better than that!

"Up until yesterday I believed you always did what you thought was best for me, and I could forgive you most things believing that. But I know differently now. I was just some pawn in a game you had no intentions of ever letting my father win. Well that game ends now."

Scott turned his chair away from his grandfather and moved towards his brother.

"Johnny, I'm so sorry for what I put you through, with sending for my grandfather. His hateful words and feelings toward you are uncalled for. I never meant for you to be hurt. Can you ever forgive me Brother?"

"Scott ain't nothing to forgive you for. You ain't the one that put the words in his mouth. I know you don't feel that way. Hell it don't matter to me what that old bastardo says or feels about me – I just don't want him to hurt you, is all."

Garret watched and listened to the exchange, and felt the anger rising. How could his Scotty even talk to this half-breed killer, much-like claim him as a brother? He had not raised the boy to end up like this! It was all the fault of this scum and his half-wit father who had had the audacity to make claim to the boy after all the years he had worked so hard to keep him away. He was not going to let it go this way. He would make Scotty understand that he had no choice but to come with him back to Boston.

Taking a few steps towards the contraption his Scotty now sat in, he reached out to force his grandson around to look at him; however, as he grabbed the handle and back of the chair, he pulled on it too quickly and the chair began to tip backwards. Before any one could react, the wheeled chair flipped backwards and spilt Scott onto the floor.

Johnny had not realized what Garret was going to do until his brother was falling over. He was a step too far away to stop it from happening and could only go to his brother after the chair had fallen over.

"Scott!" He cried as he went to his brother who was lying on his side, having fallen completely out of the chair.

"I'm alright, I think," Scott replied somewhat dazed, "just lift the chair upright and then help me get in it."

Just as he was setting the chair upright, Murdoch came rushing into the room. Not being able to find Scott or Johnny in the great room or kitchen, he was walking towards the guest room when he heard the crash. Seeing his son laying on the floor, he quickly went to him.

"Son, are you alright?" Scott nodded his head and tried to push himself into a sitting position, however before he could fully sit up, Murdoch lifted him and placed him in his wheeled chair. He checked his elder son over for a few moments to make sure he was okay. Once he ascertained that the boy appeared to be fine, he straightened and first spoke to his younger son.

"What the hell happened in here Johnny?" Turning towards his older son, he continued: "Scott, I thought that you agreed to wait to talk to your Grandfather until after breakfast. So what are both of you doing here?"

"It ain't Scott's …….."

"No Johnny, let me explain. In answer to your first question, Grandfather grabbed at my chair to turn it, and he did it too quickly, causing it to flip over. As regards waiting until after breakfast, you are correct, we did agree. But as I could not find Johnny, I assumed he had come here. And before you interrupt or start getting aggravated at him, he was just trying to make sure my Grandfather, the man who claims he has just wanted what was best for me all these years, did not say any more hateful things to me. Isn't that right Brother?"

Johnny Lancer looked down at his boots, then back at his brother. As he stood there he wondered and not for the first time, what he had ever done to deserve such a perfect brother, well at least perfect for him. One he loved more than anything; a brother that had given him his life while putting his own in harm's way. And a brother that seemed to know just what he was doing and why, like now, without even having to be told.

"Yeah, only didn't plan on you overhearing." He turned to old man Garret and in a low menacing voice, continued.

"But just because Scott's heard some of what we were talking about Garret, ain't no reason for you to forget what I said. Now that you know my brother ain't coming with you, you best get that manservant of yours to pack up your things and get going. You're not wanted here."

Harlan Garret was incensed: "How dare you speak to me in that manner! Scotty I know this has been hard on you Son, and your not quite yourself. I'm sure that by the time we get to Boston, you'll realize it is the best decision."

"Grandfather, I told you that I have decided to stay here. It would be the worst decision I could ever make coming back with you. You only want me to come because you don't want me with my father. That was always your goal. Keep me away from my father to make him pay for taking your beloved daughter away from you. Well it won't work any longer. You may think of me as a useless cripple, but you are the one who is a cripple and hate is your crutch!

Murdoch looked at his older son, proud of him for saying what needed to be said to his mother's father, yet knowing that deep inside the boy was feeling the pain of loss of the man who he had believed loved him, until now that is. Now his son was truly seeing who his grandfather was for the first time.

Harlan Garret stood by himself facing the three Lancers, outraged at what was apparently happening. He was loosing his control over his grandson; loosing him to the one person he swore would never have him. When Scott had first decided to come out here, Garret had been against it, but felt after a short while he would be able to get him to come home to Boston. Last year after Scott had not returned as he expected, he had finally tried playing the cards he had kept hidden for just the right time, to use against Murdoch Lancer. His anger grew as he remembered how it had all fallen apart thanks to the murderer, Murdoch claimed as a son!

He had gone home then, biding his time for the right moment, and it had come, albeit not the way he intended. But still, Scott would be his! He would not loose to Lancer again, not ever again! Taking a calming breath, he chose his words carefully.

"Scotty, I'm sure you don't mean those things and that with time, you will understand that I did everything for you. Besides, you can't expect your father and…well everyone here to just stop what they are doing to attend to your needs. I mean after all your staying here, well it could cause problems for them, perhaps you haven't thought…."

"That's enough Harlan, stop right there!" Murdoch's voice had a menacing air about it. He took a few steps to stand between his sons and Garret and then turned back to his sons.

"Scott, Johnny you two go along now and get some breakfast. I have a few things to talk to Harlan about and I will join you shortly." The look he gave his boys left no room for argument.

Still Scott was hesitant to leave. He knew that his grandfather had just used a veiled threat against Murdoch and Johnny, in saying they may have 'problems' if he stayed. He had grown up around the man; he knew that he was threatening harm to them if he stayed. He needed to confront his grandfather, but looking at his father and seeing his firm resolved, he realized the Murdoch had other plans.

"Johnny?" Murdoch motioned for his younger son to take a hold of the wheeled chair and move his brother out of the room. Before Johnny could do so however, Scott nodded and maneuvered his chair around and through the door, with Johnny following him. The Lancer patriarch walked behind them to make sure they both went down the hall, before closing the door.

He turned back to Harlan Garret, and when he did so, there was calmness about him, that he didn't think was possible. His famous temper was held in check. After all that was exactly what Garret would expect. But it would not be needed here.

"No more threats Harlan, no more using Scott against me, and no more actions to try and ruin me. For years now I have been accumulating information about you and your underhanded business deals in anticipation that one day after my son came home that I might need a means to protect him, to protect Lancer. I have Harlan, a great deal of wealth beyond just this ranch, through investments, good investments over the years, so I'm not that poor man from Inverness that came hat in hand asking for his son back all those years ago.

"I hired a very good young attorney, just starting out in Boston before I left after having failed to get Scott. I couldn't afford to pay him much, but here and there I sent him money to keep and eye on my son and you. He was smart, very smart and through the years as he read about a business deal you made that seemed rather one-sided he would meet with the other party, taking sworn statements from them on how they were blackmailed, or cheated into selling out or making you a partner.

"It is quite a file, maybe I should show you before you leave, so you will understand that I will use everything in there, if need be, if you try to harm me or my family. I'm strong enough now Harlan to hurt you in ways that I wasn't able to before. Perhaps I could have used it sooner, to bring my son home, but Scott had to come on his own, and I had to be strong in my own way to ask for him to come. And last year when you came I wasn't prepared for my son to be hurt by showing him the files. Had I known what you were doing, well it would have been the right time; but thankfully Johnny was able to get the goods on you then.

"Scott is home Harlan and unless he chooses to leave, on his own, without being pressured by you or anyone else, this is where he will stay. As I said, perhaps you care to see the file to understand just how serious I am about destroying you if I have to? Because I will do anything to protect my family; and that includes both of my sons, Harlan. So I better not hear one more disparaging word about Johnny either, or so help me in addition to releasing the information to the proper authorities and the press, you'll be lying on the floor unable to speak or move. Have I made myself clear?"

Harlan Garret wasn't used to being threatened, and while part of him wanted to doubt that his former son-n-law had anything on him, he also knew that Murdoch Lancer was not a man to make idle threats, the reports he had accumulated over the years proved that. Further he knew that the man had amazed an amount of personal wealth that was quite near his own, which was quite surprising for an uneducated immigrant. Given all of that perhaps the best thing to do here was let him have his grandson. After all, it wasn't like he was getting any prize.

The Bostonian moved to the window to look out at the view. He just didn't see what people found attractive about this god forsaken land.

"I'm sure that is not necessary Murdoch, not that I believe there is anything in those files that could harm me. But I believe it would be too much for the boy, if I were to continue to fight for him. Perhaps it is best that he stay here with you. In time, if he wants we can correspond and maybe someday visit again, meeting in San Francisco away from the ranch, if he is ever able to do so." The last words said without any real meaning almost dismissing his grandson as if he were unimportant. Turning back to his former son-in-law, he pasted a polite look on his face, trying to take control of the moment.

"I'll have Masters pack our things. There is no use delaying the inevitable, don't you think?"

"Yes I think that is a fine idea Harlan. I'll have one of my men get your buggy ready and come for your bags. I'm sure you will want to say goodbye to Scott before you leave."

And with that Murdoch left to join his sons for a much-needed breakfast. It had been a while since he found he was this hungry.

JMLJMLJML

The goodbyes had been brief and decidedly cool. Not one of them ready or willing to make the effort otherwise, Scott silently acknowledging that his relationship with his grandfather would never be the same again and that it mattered not one iota to him.

Harlan Garret had appeared unconcerned by the fact he was leaving under so dark a cloud. Head held high and with no trace of shame or even regret he had climbed into the rented carriage and without once looking back begun his journey back to Boston.

The three Lancer men watched the carriage grow smaller and smaller as it headed into the distance. Soon it would be but a dot on the horizon, indiscernible and of no importance. Only then did they intend turning their backs on the unpleasantness their visitor had caused, leaving it, like the man himself behind them.

It was Johnny's keen eye that noticed it first. Another carriage, only this one was heading towards Lancer and at a more leisurely pace. The young man squinted, narrowing his field of vision, hoping to identify its occupants.

"It looks like Sam's carriage but…" the young man shrugged.

"But what?" Murdoch asked eyeing his younger son.

"It ain't him! Not unless he's taken to wearing a bonnet on his head!"

Scott found himself laughing at the idea of the doctor wearing such an item then stated. "It must be May." A few seconds later he added confidently, "Yes it is and she's got someone with her!"

"Oh!" Murdoch's gaze settled back on the buggy that trundled ever closer to the hacienda.

"It's Cara!" Johnny grinned, pleasantly surprised by the identity of their other guest.

"Cara? Cara Jenkins?" Scott asked as his heart began to race, although he wasn't quite sure why, as the thought of anyone seeing him in the wheeled chair no longer bothered him.

"Yeah." The brunet eyed his brother thoughtfully. The two women had to be coming to visit Scott, and that was just what his sibling needed right now, something pretty and charming to take his mind off the ugliness of the last two days. Yes it was just what the doctor ordered!

TBC

Con and Molly


	21. Chapter 21

Broken Chapter 21

Broken Chapter 21

The buggy was still a couple of hundred yards or so away from the hacienda when the younger of its two lady occupants threw her gloved hand high above her head and waved exuberantly in the Lancers' direction. The three men all smiled and waved back, eager to greet those they all knew would prove heart lifting company.

As May Jenkins finally brought the carriage to a halt, Johnny stepped forward to steady the gray mare who had so diligently pulled it, patting the creatures silky neck, as he stared up at the beautiful young woman now alighting with the aid of his father.

Cara hugged the tall rancher affectionately then flashed Johnny a joyous smile before turning her attention to his brother. The dark haired Lancer didn't miss the way her eyes lit up on seeing his sibling.

As Murdoch greeted May, assisting her from the carriage, Johnny's gaze moved swiftly to his brother eager to see just what sort of impact Cara Jenkins would have on him. Scott was smiling up at her, taking her hand as she offered it to him, while leaning in to receive the gentle kiss she subsequently planted on his cheek.

Fascinated by what he knew to be a mutual attraction he listened unabashed to their conversation; something he seemed to being doing on a regular basis lately where his big brother was concerned. Smiling to himself, he knew he was going to seriously have to break this 'new habit', before Scott discovered it. He wouldn't like it one bit; no not one bit.

"Mother said you were leaving with your Grandfather. I just had to come and say goodbye; but we passed your grandfather on the road and he said...well it doesn't matter what he said. I heard about your accident. How are you Scott?"

"I'm very well thank you," Scott answered, using his well ingrained social skills, to project an outward appearance of poise and self-assurance, when he was anything but. "And you?"

"I can see that you are." Cara beamed, she'd been certain the Scott she knew would triumph over adversity, and the calm confident air about him confirmed just that. "And I'm just fine, more than fine. In fact..." Cara paused glancing quickly at Murdoch and then Johnny before letting her gaze once again settle on Scott. "I'm what can only be described as over the moon!"

"Oh?" Scott smiled at the excitement on the young woman's face, wondering what could possibly have put it there.

"I have some wonderful news to share with you...with you all." Cara gushed, her grey eyes sparkling with delight.

"Well how about you tell us inside, over some refreshments?" Murdoch enthused, taking a smiling May by the arm and leading the way indoors.

"What a lovely idea, Murdoch. And Cara, my dear, you need to come back down from the moon for a while, and stop fluttering all over the place." May Jenkins said, as she placed her hand on her daughter's elbow, to gently move her towards the hacienda. Cara flashed the brothers yet another radiant smile before following her mother and host towards the door.

The brothers lingered briefly, staring appreciatively after the willowy figure. As the doctors youngest daughter disappeared from view Scott sighed, unaware of the huge grin plastered across his face.

"Pretty ain't she." Johnny confirmed what his brother was so obviously thinking.

"What?" Scott looked up at his brother; he'd been so distracted he'd not really heard the younger man's words.

"Cara. She sure is pretty."

Scott sobered quickly, not liking the knowing look his brother was giving him. "Yes. I suppose she is." He replied flatly, as he manoeuvred his wheeled chair forward towards the front door.

'Pretty had to be the understatement of the year' Scott thought, Cara Louise Jenkins was beautiful, stunningly beautiful, he had always thought so. And she was everything he found attractive in a woman – intelligent, witty, and vivacious. The young school teacher had blown into his life like some whirlwind when they first met. But as he spent more time with her, he'd also found she had a quieter side too and that she had a most caring and gentle nature.

Unfortunately, just as he had decided to make his move, to hopefully take their blossoming friendship to a courtship, Cara had informed him of the excellent job offer she had received, all of two hundred miles away!

He had encouraged her to take it, believing it to be a wonderful opportunity for her to pursue her teaching career; and all too quickly, she had moved on, leaving him to hear second and third hand, from her parents and his father, as to how she was faring in her new position and new home. It now appeared that something momentous had happened while she was away. Perhaps she had met someone?

If that was the case then he would be happy for her; no matter the sadness he felt inside that it could no longer be him, who would capture the beautiful Cara's heart.

JMLJMLJML

As Scott made his way into the great room and sat in his chair watching the animated Miss Jenkins talking about her past year as a teacher, he quickly realized that despite what he'd silently promised outside, he found himself dreading what he was about to hear. Like his brother he was hanging on every word Cara uttered, but whereas Johnny's smile reflected pure enjoyment as he listened to her relating some of her school children's antics, his own smile was a forced one.

And when Murdoch returned from the kitchen, bearing a tray laden with iced lemonade and freshly baked fruit loaf, and the conversation turned to the 'news' Miss Jenkins was so eager to share, Scott found that he was holding his breath, praying he would get through the next few moments with dignity and graciousness. So sure was he that her good news would take away the small ray of hope he seemed to still harbour, for a chance at 'happy ever after'.

"Well?" Murdoch asked eyeing his oldest friend's daughter inquisitively. He then turned to May Jenkins, passing her a glass of lemonade.

"Yes please Cara, you have kept all these fine gentlemen in suspense long enough, and as this was a quickly planned visit, we do need to get back to town to prepare dinner for your father." May smiled at Murdoch, both sharing looks only long-time friends who knew each other so well could do. "You know how grumpy he can get, when on the rare occasion he shows for dinner and it is nowhere to be found!"

"Well now May, here I thought that Doc just saved that grumpiness for when he was treating me. Didn't think he'd have any left for any body else." Johnny said as he sat down on the end of the couch, passing on the dreaded fruit loaf, but taking the proffered lemonade, as he gave May Jenkins his full smile; the one that had been known to take a female's breath away.

"No Johnny dear, my husband has perfected his grumpiness over the years, and he has plenty to go around. But you just do as I do, ignore him." She gave Johnny a fellow conspirator's smile as she turned to her daughter. "Now Cara, please do tell everyone what you are so over the moon about!"

"Well...I'm sure you are all aware that they've not yet found someone to take Maisy's place." Cara's smile faded as she remembered her dearest friend, the pain of her loss still quite intense. Taking a deep calming breath, she continued: "So Green River needs a teacher and well... I've been so very homesick...so I've accepted the position."

A deafening whoop of delight escaped his brother's lips accompanied by a more sedate cheer by his father. Scott himself could only smile and nod his approval as the realization of what she said finally hit him; his smile then widening with the realization that despite the commotion now going on around them, Cara's attention was centred solely on him.

JMLJMLJML

All too soon the visit was over, all too soon he had to say goodbye. Still with May engaging both Johnny and Murdoch in conversation, Scott had the opportunity to have a more private exchange with Cara. However, he found that for the first time for which he could ever remember he was ill-at-ease around a member of the fairer sex; his thoughts running every which way at just what to say. He finally reached deep inside to call upon all the endless hours he had been drilled in the social graces one needed to be a gracious host and a gentleman, making sure your guest, particularly beautiful young ladies, felt welcomed and comfortable in your presence.

"Hopefully we'll see a little more of you now that you have decided to return home."

"We?" Cara questioned coyly.

"Actually..." He stumbled over his words, not having been prepared for her reply; he reached deep inside once again. "By that I meant me. I should have said 'I' hope to see a little more of you." Scott found the smile that met his admission just reward for the courage he had had to muster to make it.

"Tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow?" Scott's eyes lit up, once again surprised by Cara's response.

"My father is planning on stopping by, I thought I might..."

"I hope you do." Scott interrupted.

Cara blushed unable to quite believe the turn in events. Earlier that morning she had believed her feelings for Scott Lancer had no hope of ever being reciprocated; now she knew differently and her heart soared.

JMLJMLJML

It was the middle of the afternoon and Scott had reluctantly returned to his room to rest on his bed, after being reminded, and finally directed to do so by Murdoch. Although it wasn't so much to rest now, more to prevent pressure sores and contractures of his lower limbs from developing. It was believed by the medical doctors who were the leading experts in the field of paralysis that by having him lying in a prone position for several hours each afternoon it would prevent such dreaded complications. The young man was beginning to resent the time he spent there but realising this, his father made sure he occupied that time with a good book, or like today by reading through some legal papers concerning the ranches' business affairs.

Johnny had accompanied his brother, making sure he had everything he needed, while discretely making sure the transfer from wheeled chair to bed was done safely, before returning to the great room. When he walked back into the room, he had a grin on his face, "He's whistling!" Johnny informed his father triumphantly.

"I can hear him." Murdoch replied looking up from the ledger he was working on.

"Well you know what that means don't you?" The youngest Lancer heaved himself up to sit on his father's desk.

"I do?" The Lancer patriarch puzzled over his younger son's comment before stating what he thought was the correct answer. "He's happy!"

"No! More than just happy Murdoch, Scott's in love!"

"He is? You mean Cara?"

"Who else?" Johnny eyed his father like the man had two heads; surely it was obvious that his brother had lost his heart to the flaxen haired beauty.

"That's a bit premature don't you think Son? I mean they only..."

"He's in love and so is she." Johnny insisted. "Did you see the way she looked at him? I'm talking wedding here Murdoch just you wait and see." With that Johnny started to leave the great room, but before he could get out the French doors, he father called him back.

"Johnny, before you go, I thought that now that Scott is staying, we could discuss some changes I think are necessary, at least for a while, in how things are handled around here." Murdoch put down the pen he was using to make ledger entries and came around the front of the desk.

The younger Lancer walked back over to where his father was standing.

"Don't you think we should have Scott in on this conversation?"

"Yes, but first I want to discuss a few things with you, while Scott is lying down."

Johnny shrugged his shoulders, not sure what the old man had in mind, but unless he let him get to it, he would never be able to get to the things he wanted to get started on. So he sat down on the arm of the chair, and waited for Murdoch to begin.

"Until we are able to make the necessary improvements to the grounds that will allow Scott to move around unaided, or at least with more ease, he will not feel comfortable handing out the morning assignments for crews, which he had been doing before the accident. Agreed?" Murdoch looked pointedly at his younger son.

The young man nodded his head, knowing that Scott felt uncomfortable being pushed around the yard – even though the uneven ground prevented him from handling the chair himself. Murdoch, seeing the nod of ascent, went on.

"I want to focus on getting the grounds in shape as quickly as possible, in order for Scott to resume that morning responsibility. I miss him in doing so, as he is such a natural leader, and the men, even the new ones, always responded well to his directives. I want everyone, including your brother, to recognize that he is still a vital part of the ranch operation. To that end I'm going to be working with Cip and Jelly to come up with a system of walkways that will get him comfortably around the yard.

"Working to make the grounds easier, however, will not address the issue of how we fill the gap of the job he did with Cip and you of checking on the crews throughout the day. I know that a lot of the days, you and Scott would see them off, and then go and do a job together, breaking up late afternoon to check with Cip on how work was progressing. In talking with Sam, he and I both feel a small carriage can be rigged to allow your brother to control it using only his hands, which would allow him to move around the ranch." Seeing Johnny about to interrupt, he held up his hand.

"But, I know, I know, it would be too dangerous for him, to allow him to go off on his own. Any number of things could happen, so even when he is stronger and does feel comfortable handling a rig himself, like it or not, a hand will accompany him on horseback. But Scott is still in the beginning stages of developing his independence; his body is not strong enough to handle such a rig. So I think you need to pull back, on doing the physical part of running the ranch, and concentrate on working with Cip to oversee and direct the crews. Some days, that will include actually working with them; other days, we may be sending out crews in many different directions, you will be just directing. Is that agreeable with you?"

"Yeah, I think it make sense. But I still want to work the horses and spend some time with Scott. Maybe not every day, all day long like I have been, but …."

"I know, and I agree, and have a suggestion. Scott will, because of his physical limitations, take on most of the book work, which I know you will not miss at all." Murdoch noted Johnny's small smile at his acknowledgement of his son's distaste for having to do any bookwork.

"What I thought might be good, is for him to learn from you and Jelly how to do work with leather, repairing it and such, so he could use his upper body more by managing some of the tack, and doing repairs. I know that you have worked with some of the younger men such as Miguel, and Manuel, but there is so much of it to do on a ranch this size, we could use the organizing skills of your brother overseeing the tack inventory; decided what needs to be replaced, budgeting for new harnesses and leather goods, overseeing the workers that are assigned full time in this area, and actually working with the tack himself. What do you think?"

Johnny looked at his father, taking a while to mull over what had been said. Finally he slowly nodded his head.

"You know it might not be a bad idea. Come to think about it, I think it's a good idea. It would help Scott a lot in getting stronger, and the stronger he gets, the more he will be able to do on his own, like driving that carriage. And ya know, I bet Jelly can come up with a way to rig it so Scott can sit safely and handle the break and reins. Yeah, this might be a good thing. We gonna talk when he gets up later?"

"Yes, the sooner the better. In fact after I finish up here I'll go check on him, and then see if I can find Cip and Jelly to get started on making the path to the barns the first improvement we make. I know it's too late for you to join the crews today, and Cip has Frank and Isidro overseeing the two larger ones anyway, so what are your plans for the rest of the day?"

The young man looked at his father, not sure he wanted to reveal just yet what he was going to start working on. He had discussed it the other day with Sam, as sort of an idea, if Scott stayed. Now that he knew for sure his brother wasn't gonna go back to Boston, he was anxious to get started. Jelly had promised to help, as had Cip, but he wanted it all to be a surprise, even to his father.

"I wanted to go check on the new stock that the men rounded up the other day, and start planning which horses to break in first. We need to get going on this to meet the promise dates we put in that contract with the Calvary. There is a new hand, that is kinda good at breaking em, but needs some work, so I thought I could maybe start working with him too. Then some tack work, and then…."

Murdoch stood from leaning on the desk. "I get the picture, John. How about you are back here in about two hours, which is when I'll get Scott up and the three of us can talk this through. Then we'll plan on bringing Cip and Jelly in to tell them of the changes."

Johnny also stood, and retraced his earlier steps toward the French doors. "Yep, it's fine with me, so I'll see ya later, Murdoch."

As he was moving out the door, Murdoch heard his younger son begin to whistle, and it reminded him of the earlier statement Johnny had made about Scott and Cara. It had stunned him at the time, coming as it did so out of the blue. But it was typical of Johnny to pick up on something not blindingly obvious to everyone else, the boy didn't miss anything and especially not where his brother was concerned. For his eldest son's sake he hoped the boy was right, but right now it worried him. If truth be told it worried him a great deal. Love, when it came, didn't always work out. He had been lucky once, not so twice.

Scott was in a wheeled chair, and that would not change for him. He needed help daily in her personal needs, and that too would not change. Could love overcome his son's physical limitations? He hoped so, he hoped with all his heart. But still………

JMLJMLJML

Whistling, he had been whistling and he hadn't even realized that he was. When was the last time he had ever done that! Well his heart had been racing when Cara and he had their brief talk. Was he imagining the look on her face? Did she actually blush? Could she actually want him?

Yesterday he would have told anyone who had suggested that he could marry, that they were just playing a joke on him, a cruel one at that. But now, today, after Cara's visit, he was thinking……..

Well damn it what the hell was he thinking! He was imagining it, that's what he was doing. After all Cara was possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even more beautiful than the socialites of Boston, that spent their entire day, every day, trying to improve their looks. She was even more beautiful than Julie. So why in the world would she possibly want him?

"Get a grip on your imagination, boy" he said to himself. "She can't possibly want…well certainly she could have any...but then she blushed. She blushed. Didn't she?"

Perhaps he was overtired and had just imagined the whole thing? After all the morning had been eventful to say the least. There had been the acrimonious exchange with his grandfather, and then the icy farewell.

A chapter of his life had come to a close and he was on the threshold of something quite scary. Perhaps then he had been looking for some comfort, some warmth and it had arrived in the shape of Miss Cara Jenkins. Had he gone on to misread the signals he was getting? Cara cared about him like a good friend would but surely it would be ridiculous to expect more from her than that!

Yet Cara had promised to call on him tomorrow, surely she wouldn't be so eager to see him if...what was he doing? Just what was he trying to convince himself of here? Was it that love and everything that went hand in hand with that wonderful emotion was still possible for a broken man such as he?

How could it possibly be?

He was suddenly so very weary, tired to the point of being miserable, well he hadn't slept well the night before so that was to be expected he supposed. Setting the documents he was meant to be reading through down on his nightstand, he rested his head on his pillow. Closing his eyes he told himself he wouldn't think about Cara any more, that doing so only served to tie his insides up in knots.

A few minutes later, Murdoch's gentle knock on the door went unanswered. Pushing his son's partially closed door open; he leaned in and took in the sleeping form. Smiling to himself, he backed out of the room wondering if he would be able to refrain from saying he told-you-so, when he returned to wake Scott in a few hours. Stubborn, the boy was so stubborn; but he was glad for it, knowing that the dose of stubborn would see him through the hard days to come, as he learned to live life to its fullest from the confines of his wheeled chair.

TBC

Con and Molly


	22. Chapter 22

Broken

Chapter 22

It had been a month since Harlan Garrett's departure and all thought of the elderly Bostonian and his hateful dealings had long since been pushed to the farthest recesses of everyone's mind, especially Scott's.

The silver haired antagonist had exited his life on a tide of ill feeling but the young man had had little time to dwell on the event or on any possible consequences, his thoughts not only occupied with the structural changes made within and outside Lancer's walls but also with his ever deepening involvement with Cara Jenkins.

Cara was now a regular visitor to Lancer, much to everyone's delight. Johnny and Murdoch had witnessed a heart warming change in Scott, his confidence had soared, and he actually seemed content with his lot, he was undeniably happy, happier than either one of them had dared hope he could be. Each new day still proved a challenge but the young man met each one with a quiet zest, determined to overcome whatever obstacle presented him. The future held so much more promise now Cara was a part of it.

While the sun was still rising in the early morning sky, the young man pushed the wheels of his chair along one of the newly installed walk-ways that took him around the area between the hacienda, barns, corrals and other buildings surrounding the estancia. It had all happened so fast, he shook his head in wonder thinking about all that had been done for him in such a short time. As he wheeled himself back to the hacienda from giving the men their work-day assignments, he remembered back to the afternoon his grandfather had left – the same afternoon that Cara had announced her plans to remain in Green River as the school teacher – the same afternoon that was the start of a whirlwind courtship with the most beautiful woman in the world.

When he had awoken from his rest that day a month ago, Scott had met with Murdoch and his brother, and then later with Cipriano and Jelly to talk about changes that would need to be made in order to make it easier for him to get around on his own.

Murdoch had known that Scott hated being pushed in his chair and the first thing to be attended to was designing and building a series of wooden walkways that would allow him to maneuver himself unaided around the ranch compound. It was important for these needed paths to be constructed as soon as possible, because once completed, Scott would be able to reassume some of his previous responsibilities, such as deciding daily work assignments and crew sizes.

In addition Scott had agreed to take over the main responsibility for the bookkeeping; but he made it very clear that as soon as he was strong enough to handle a modified carriage, which Jelly would work on building, he would want to get back to being out and about the ranch, checking on crews where possible, inspecting work and along with Johnny making determinations on managing the many different land and mineral resources, which Lancer had the good fortune to have. In other words he wanted to get back to living the daily life of a rancher, albeit from a carriage, not a horse. He knew there would be limitations, but he wanted to do as much as possible. In the meantime in addition to the books he would learn how to repair and manage the tack that was used and needed on a ranch the size of Lancer.

In fact the tack room was where he would head later this morning, once he finished breakfast and meeting with his father and brother to discuss the possible acquisition of seven new bulls being offered to them by a breeder in Arizona. If they could get them for the right price, Cipriano would leave the end of the week, taking several men with him to bring the bulls back to Lancer.

The walkways had been designed by both he and his father and built by the men in record time. Jelly had taken on the task of making sure they would be constructed correctly and had selected a few ranch hands to work on it full time. The whiskered handyman had thought it would take several weeks to get it all laid out and put together, but the day the work started, plans changed completely. For that evening as the crews started arriving back at the estancia while it was still light outside, the returning hands started pitching in on the construction. All these men had worked every evening and for the next couple of Sundays until within two weeks the walk-ways had been completed. If was, he knew, a gift to him; one he would forever be grateful for, as it had shown how much he was liked and respected here at Lancer.

Going in through the front door into the hacienda, Scott moved through the room opening the door to the kitchen to join Murdoch and Johnny for breakfast. A place at the table had been set for him – the chairs removed permanently to insure his easy, unencumbered access. This having been done by Johnny, who had taken it upon himself to make sure all the 'little' things were attended to in order to make Scott's life easier. Scott knew that Johnny still felt some guilt over what had happened – perhaps always would. But sometimes Scott could see that the depth of guilt his brother harbored, was almost overpowering; so soon, very soon, Scott had determined that he would need to confront Johnny about it, before it began interfering in their relationship.

Reaching for his cup of coffee he was brought out of his own thoughts by the voice of his father.

"Scott did you hear what I said?"

"No sir, thinking of something else. Sorry."

Murdoch shook his head as he himself reached to pour another cup of coffee.

"And I'm sure I know what, or rather who you were thinking about, and coincidently she is also whom I was talking about. Rather young Miss Cara and her father to be precise." The elder Lancer took a sip of coffee before continuing.

"I said that Sam sent word through Pedro who spent the night in Green River that Cara and he would be coming tonight for dinner. I had asked Sam a few weeks ago to stop by for dinner this week while May is visiting with their oldest daughter in Denver. Sam informed Pedro that he and Cara will come late this afternoon and they plan on spending the night, since it is Friday and there is no school tomorrow. I hope that is alright with you?" Murdoch smiled at his elder son over the rim of his cup as he took another sip of the hot fresh brew.

"Funny, Murdoch, very funny. And before you chime in here Little Brother with that quip that is just hovering in your throat, waiting to come out, I readily admit I am smitten with the beautiful Miss Cara, but do not need the two of you teasing me about it every chance you get." He turned to thank Maria who had placed a plate of hot pancakes in front him. Taking his knife and fork into hand, Scott buttered the hotcakes, and poured a generous amount of syrup on them, before taking his first bite.

Johnny also seemed pre-occupied with his plate of pancakes so only smiled at his sibling, saving any remark for later, as food almost always took a precedent over conversation; even one that was all about teasing his brother.

Breakfast was finished in fast order – pancakes being a favorite with the Lancer men, and they adjourned to the great room, to complete their discussion about the bulls. Cipriano now had joined them to help decide if the latest, and noted by the seller as his final offer, was an agreeable price. Pedro who had been staying in Green River waiting for the seller's response had brought this final offer by way of telegram this morning. After a brief discussion the Lancer men and Segundo agreed that the price was more than fair, so additional time was spent on the logistics of the trip to acquire and bring the bulls to Lancer. The decision made, it was time to get on with the work at hand.

Later that afternoon, Scott finished with the day's planned work in the tack room and headed to the hacienda to begin working on the ranch books. As he entered the room he was greeted by his father.

"Hey Son, I was just coming out to get you." Scott looked at the tall rancher, puzzled by what he had said. Before he could ask, Murdoch continued:

"Getting late, almost 3:30 and I know you have been working on inventory of our leather pieces since this morning. Jelly said he brought you out a quick lunch, of just a sandwich and apple, so that means you have been in the chair for over eight hours. You need to get out of it for a while, stretch out and rest, particularly as we will be having company tonight."

"Yes, I know that I should; just was caught up in wanting to get the job finished."

"And did you?"

"Not quite, but should not take more than another day. We have, as you probably know, quite a large collection of tack, including the harnesses and wagon parts that have accumulated over the years. Since most of the ranch hands rely on Lancer's open policy of getting replacement reins, straps, bits and in some cases saddle pieces, well there is quite a lot in all three barns. A fair amount of it, I might add, that needs repairing."

"I'm sure you're right, Son. But as you say, it has been accumulating for years, and will not be straightened out in a few days either. So you need not to push yourself so hard you forget what Sam's rules are concerning rest and not sitting in the chair for long stretches at a time. He wants you not only to rest in the afternoon, but to move out of the wheeled chair to sit on the couch, or in the wing-back chairs in your room; or, well you get the idea. So I know you want to get going on the books, but it can wait, perhaps even until tomorrow sometime. I also know you will want to clean up before Cara and Sam get here, so how about I help you get a bath, then you can lie down for a while, and be up again when they arrive. Will that be acceptable?"

"Yes sir, very. I'll go get some clean clothes and meet you in the bathhouse."

JMLJMLJMLJML

Scott had been resting for several hours when Murdoch finally went back to his room to rouse him. The tall rancher figured that Sam and Cara Jenkins would be arriving sometime in the next half hour or so, and knew that his oldest son would be mortified if he was still sleeping and not fully dressed and waiting on the veranda when Cara arrived.

Knocking softly on the door, he was startled for a moment when Scott answered his knock, with a 'come in', in a voice that sounded as if he had been awake for some time. Sure enough when Murdoch entered, he found his son in his chair, just finishing shaving, and noted that his clothes were already laid out for him on the bed.

"For some reason I thought you would be sleeping, didn't hear you moving around."

"Well I am getting better at moving from bed to chair and in the process, hope that I am getting quieter about it. After all, you have to admit I did make quite a bit of noise with the wheeled chair in the beginning. Could you help me with my personal needs, sir?"

Murdoch nodded yes, and went to get the commode and moved it closer to his son's bed. Helping Scott as needed, the tasks were completed in silence, and the young man ready to be assisted with donning his clothes in no time at all. The Lancer patriarch had learned to do what his son could not – never asking or saying anything unnecessary, as he understood that in this area Scott still had extreme difficulty in dealing with the loss of bodily functions the accident had caused. But at least now – Scott had learned to handle it stoically, his discomfort hidden away. And Murdoch too had learned that his silence and efficiency in attended to what was necessary, helped his elder son maintain some sense of privacy, when in actuality, none was at hand.

Finishing, the men moved into the hall and Murdoch spoke to the younger man.

"Scott, the Jenkins should be here sometime soon, and so I am going to go clean up, change and should be back down in about fifteen minutes. If they should come….."

"I am sure Father that entertaining a beautiful young woman and her esteemed father is something I am still quite capable of doing. After all, years of training in the finer points of social graces have not fallen by the wayside, even living in this 'barren wasteland'" Scott grinned up at Murdoch, who shook his head smiling as he turned to go up the stairs to his room. The elder Lancer son watched him for a few moments before going on into the great room to try and wait patiently for the woman who had stolen his heart to arrive.

JMLJML

The dinner, as usual had been scrumptious. Maria, upon learning in the early morning that Scott's Cara and the good doctor would be coming for dinner, had scrapped the planned enchiladas and chili, and in stead had quickly put together a pot roast with all the trimmings, one of Dr. Jenkins' favorite meals. Just to make sure that Juanito was not too disappointed with the change of the night's menu, she had also made a large chocolate cake, with extra chocolate frosting, just for her special nino.

After dessert and coffee, Johnny had excused himself to go to the barn to check on Barranca. The horse had stepped wrong on some rocky terrain the day before so the younger Lancer son had not ridden him that day. He now wanted to make sure the injury was healing.

Ever polite, Scott had asked both Murdoch and Sam to join him and Cara on the veranda for a while, as it was a beautiful night – not to be wasted sitting inside. Both men had politely declined, citing the need to talk about a few civic matters, while partaking of the excellent brandy the Lancer patriarch always had on hand.

So alone – the young couple moved first out onto the veranda, and then into the orchard, Cara wanting to sit among the beautiful apple and orange trees.

"Scott you cannot believe how wonderful my students are." She began, first sitting on the low bench placed beneath the oldest tree in the orchard – the one with the long dipping branches, then suddenly rising to walk among the trees and flowering bushes. "I wasn't sure at first you know. I mean after all Maisy was such a strong presence and the children of course adored her. But now after almost a month I think they have finally come to accept me. I had, or we had the most wonderful day!"

"Well princess, I can not even begin to think that anyone, much less those twenty-three children, would not just bow down at your feet, waiting to act upon your every wish!' Scott took a sip of the brandy his father had given to him as they left the great room, and grinned at her over the rim of the glass.

"Oh, Scott Lancer, you are hopeless. You think the sun, moon and stars are all at my command." She gave him one of her captivating smiles, the one that made her even more beautiful, at least in his eyes.

"Don't they? I'm quite sure, Miss Jenkins that the entire world and that which surrounds it is in fact at your command. I know that I am. As to your students, I am also quite sure that as each day goes by every one of those children will slowly fall under your spell, so that not one of them will dare to not do exactly as you say. You will, my beautiful princess, captivate them all, as you do with all of us mere mortals."

Cara smiled brilliantly at him, crinkling her nose in the process.

"Well you, my handsome prince charming, are a tiny bit prejudiced in just what you think my powers of persuasion are. Nonetheless I do believe you are right and that very soon I will have them all eating out of my hand, and becoming the brilliant students I know they are capable of being."

She laughed at her own silliness and her 'prince charming' joined in her laughter.

"Oh Scott, I love children so much – they are so wonderful, even the recalcitrant older boys in my school – who are sure that they know everything there is to know. Just get each of them alone, talk with them gently, and they too are so full of wonder. It is my dream to be always surrounded by children. Oh and did you know that the church is having a dance, a social next weekend. Well it has simply been ages, as I understand since a dance was held in Green River, and everyone is so excited. Laura Moore is so excited, she loves to dance, well, I say, who doesn't, and when she……."

Scott continued to smile, appearing to enjoy so much Cara's happiness with her life. And truly he was, but he also felt a twinge in his heart. Oh how he would give almost anything to be able to twirl his beautiful princess around a dance floor in his arms. He had never been able to do so – and so much he wished, if just for one dance. But that was not to be.

As to children, well that was also something that would not be. Sam and Dr. Barns had been unsure, when they had talked about it just after the accident, but it was very clear to him that neither man held out much hope. It was a subject he knew he would have to broach sometime soon, if he and Cara were going to be able to take this relationship beyond where they were now – and he very much wanted to do so. Scott loved Cara with all his heart, and knew that she loved him, but still there were things that needed to be said. They had spent some time already talking about his limitations, but still he needed to make sure that she fully understood that the possibility of the two of them having children together was highly improbable. Once she fully understood he hoped to propose to this beautiful lady who brought such joy to his heart. Hopefully, well hopefully one day ………….

JMLJML

The two men had watched the young couple exit through the French doors, as Cara and Scott had disappeared out onto the veranda; Sam and Murdoch had made their way over to the couch, intent on drinking their brandy in comfort.

Sam held the crystal snifter in the palm of his right hand, gently swirling its contents around before lifting it to his nose to inhale its rich aroma. Nodding appreciatively he sipped leisurely on the dark liquor.

"Good?" Murdoch asked before sipping on his own.

"I'll say it is!" Sam replied with feeling as the alcohol's soothing warmth enveloped him.

Chuckling at the obvious pleasure on his old friend's face the rancher went on to say "I knew you would like it!"

Taking another sip the doctor sighed contentedly "I do indeed!"

"That's why I ordered you a couple of bottles."

"You did! Good, good." Sam gushed with delight. "What do I owe you?"

"Nothing." Murdoch stated, "They're a gift..."

"Now Murdoch..." Sam began to protest only to be silenced by a wave of the rancher's huge hand.

"They're a gift." The Lancer patriarch insisted "A small token of my appreciation... a little something..." Murdoch paused and shrugged as he searched for a way to explain the gesture "I just wanted to give you something, something I knew 'you' would enjoy, appreciate" Pausing briefly again the younger man then continued in a quieter, more somber a tone, "You saved Scott's life; you reached him when neither I nor his brother could. You supported me, Johnny...all of us through a very difficult time. A couple of bottles of brandy are totally inadequate I know but..."

"Stop right there Murdoch! My turn I think." Sam leant over and patted his closest friend reassuringly on the arm, "I truly appreciate the sentiment. I know it comes from the heart. I consider myself a bit of a brandy connoisseur as you well know, and if I'm not mistaken you have somehow managed to procure a rather rare and exquisite example! I can't think of a more appropriate gift so thank you. "Now how about we honour this very fine cognac by making a toast," raising his glass towards Murdoch he smiled warmly and said, "To family and dear friends."

Returning the smile Murdoch lifted his glass, "Yes, to family and dear friends."

The two men sat in companionable silence for a little while, Murdoch the first to speak, broaching a subject he and the doctor had not touched on as yet, one he was a little wary of bringing up for fear of somehow rocking the boat, the current ambience spurring him on, "Scott's smitten with Cara."

"And she with him." Sam smiled, remembering the excited chatter that had filled his ears all the way to Lancer; almost every sentence had contained the elder Lancer son's name.

"They make a handsome couple." Murdoch went on edging a little closer to airing his thoughts.

"Yes they do."

"How would...how would you feel if they were to marry?"

"I would be over the moon. How about you?"

"I would be too. I think the world of Cara as you know."

Sam nodded then went on to ask, "So you think they're heading in that direction?"

"Don't you?" Murdoch's brow furrowed, had he gotten ahead of himself somehow?

"Well, May's hearing wedding bells. Who am I to argue with female intuition?" Sam chuckled.

The Lancer patriarch laughed, then sobered quickly, ""Neither of you would have any reservations?"

"Because of his paralysis you mean?"

"Well yes." Murdoch sighed heavily, suddenly burdened with unease. He didn't like the fact he was discussing his elder son in such a manner. It felt like a betrayal of sorts; but it was so important to him for Scott to be happy, he didn't want anything getting in the way. May and Sam Jenkins were his oldest friends, good, decent people, and they had both cared for his injured son, seeing the best and the worst of him. He knew they were very fond of Scott, but Cara was their daughter and perhaps viewing the situation through parental eyes would have them seeing things a little differently.

"You want Cara to be happy and fulfilled. You want her to have a long and loving union, but you, perhaps even better than I, know Scott's limitations, and you...well you must worry for her as I worry for Scott."

"Of course I do. Marriage isn't all a bed of roses as we both know from experience, and Cara and Scott will have the added pressure of a physical disability and all the issues and restrictions that accompany it! I suppose my main concern is that they may be so blinded by what they feel for each other now that they don't see the obstacles the future has in store, and so unprepared they will fall at the first hurdle. But I believe going into this with their eyes wide open will help negate such."

"Yes." Murdoch nodded thoughtfully, 'so how did they ensure that?'

The men fell silent as if both were contemplating the hows and wherefores of the unspoken question. Finally Sam cleared his throat and began somewhat tentatively to share a recent conversation he had had with his ever practical wife. "May thinks...well she intends speaking to Cara..."

Murdoch met the older mans gaze thrown a little by his uncharacteristic unease.

"...she's planning on discussing the things that only a mother could discuss with a daughter! Prepare Cara if she can for...for...well for the difficulties they may encounter in a certain aspect of the relationship...and of course the fact that there is little likelihood of them ever having children."

"You discussed that side of things with Scott didn't you Sam?" The rancher asked needing confirmation.

"Yes both I and Dr Barns did but it was a rather clinical exchange and I don't believe Scott was particularly receptive at the time. It's probably not appropriate for me to discuss it with him again under the circumstances. That said I think he'd find it easier opening up to you with any worries he might have."

"I'm not so sure about that Sam..."

"I am. He's become dependant on you for the most personal of needs; I think he'll find discussing such a personal matter with you relatively easy because the need is there and more importantly because he knows he can."

"I'd like to think so." Murdoch breathed before taking a steadying gulp of brandy.

JMLJML

"Good fella!" Johnny cooed into Barranca's ear, "Another days rest and ya'll be as good as new." Setting the curry comb he had been using down onto a nearby bale of hay, he took a step back to admire his handy work, nodding his approval.

Laughter floated in through the open doorway, carried on the evening breeze. Johnny moved over to stand by the barn door, gazing in the direction the laughter had originated.

The Lancer orchard was enclosed within a low stone wall, a small wooden gate the only access. Just to the right of the gate was a bench, Cara Jenkins was seated there and to her right, in his wheeled chair, his brother.

Johnny had a clear view of the couple and he watched unashamedly as they chatted together, reveling in the obvious happiness of his brother. Only when the mood changed, and the couple kissed did the youngest Lancer look away, a grin spreading across his face. He was still smiling as he moved back into the barn, where he picked up the curry comb again and stepped into the stall next to Barranca's and began to groom his brother's horse, whistling cheerfully as he worked.

He was undeniably happy for his brother. Scott was in love and with a woman whom Johnny believed was perfect for him, and it was clear she loved him like he deserved to be loved. Sam's youngest daughter was heaven sent as far as Johnny was concerned.

Cara had re-entered Scott's life at just the right time, she had lifted his spirits the way only a woman could, and had given him a renewed thirst for life. And boy was it good to see! Having accepted his brother's injury was irreversible his only wish in life was for him to be happy and it seemed Cara would ensure he was.

The dark cloud that had been hanging over Lancer seemed to have left with a certain aging easterner. Cara had proved to be the sunlight needed for one inhabitant in particular to thrive.

Wrapped up in his thoughts Johnny didn't notice Jelly standing by the barn door, the older man watching him thoughtfully. Those closest to Scott had put their life on hold as they helped him through what would undoubtedly be the hardest challenge of his life. With the young man winning the fight, it was time they got their own lives back on track. So far Johnny had showed no inclination to do so.

Although it seemed the seasoned reasoning of those closest to Johnny had helped ease the burden of guilt he carried over Scott's paralysis, at times he was struck by pangs of regret and probably always would be. But seeing his brother adapt and his life slowly fall into place had done little to help Johnny concentrate a little more on his own existence. His life continued to revolve around helping his brother, and the only one not to notice was Johnny himself.

The boss had approached Jelly that very morning, touching on several concerns he had in regards his younger son. He'd been looking for a way to distract the boy, get his mind onto other things. Jelly had an idea in mind, but before he tackled that problem he wanted to assess another.

"Scott can do that himself!"

Starting a little Johnny met Jelly's gaze, "Yeah I know but he's busy right now."

There was a hint of irritation in the young man's voice and Jelly was pretty sure he knew why. Scott could groom his own horse, but not without a struggle. The elder Lancer son didn't mind straining to reach certain areas of the horse or working up a sweat in the process, but Johnny minded and if he could prevent it he would. Yes it seemed the boss had his boy pegged. Johnny was starting to become a little overprotective of his big brother.

Ambling further into the barn Jelly replied, "Ya could have left it til tomorrow Cara and the doc are heading home in the afternoon."

"Scott's got to work on the books." Johnny countered a little more irritably than before.

Jelly swallowed a retort deciding the conversation could easily end in an argument and quickly moved on to putting his earlier idea into action, "There's a poker game in town tonight."

"There's a poker game every Friday night."

"Not in Bert's house there ain't!"

"Bert! Bert Parks?" Johnny asked surprise plastered across his face.

"His wife's away and..."

Johnny's eyes widened in amusement, "And when the cats away, the mice will play! Maudie will skin him alive if she finds out."

"He's sworn us all to secrecy!"

"I don't rate his chances then." Johnny grinned, his good mood having returned.

"Smart aleck!" The handy man shot back suppressing a grin of his own. It was good to see the boy's sense of humour on show, it rarely happened these days, he missed his teasing. "Ya comin' then?"

"Nah, we've got company..."

"The doc won't mind, he's always saying he sees too much of you as it is..."

Ignoring the barb Johnny stated "The old man will, ya know what he's like when we have guests..."

"Dinner's over with, seems ta me ya have three choices, ya play gooseberry with the lovebirds, listen ta two old men chinwag or ya lit over ta Bert's with me...there'll be a pot worth the winnin' I can tell ya."

The youngest Lancer shrugged, "Scott might..."

Jelly knew what was coming and quickly interrupted "Scott won't need ya! But if'n he does need anything; ya pa's here, the doc too."

"No thanks Jelly. Next time maybe."

There was a finality about the young man's tone that told Jelly it was pointless to try and coax him any further. Making small talk as he saddled his horse he then led him outside, wishing the younger man goodnight.

Before riding away the handyman headed towards the hacienda intent on reporting the exchange with Murdoch. It wouldn't come as any surprise to the rancher; he'd expected that same reaction. At least now he could mention it to Sam, The doc might just know how best to approach what certainly seemed to be a problem in the making.

JMLJML

Johnny was just about to drop off to sleep when a rap came on his bedroom door.

"Yeah." He called sleepily, when his father's head appeared around the door he hurriedly sat upright "Is something wrong? Is it Scott?"

"No Son. Scott's fine...and well that's the very reason I'm here."

"What?" Johnny made no attempt to hide his confusion, eyeing the older man in bewilderment as he approached him.

As he sat on the side of his younger son's bed Murdoch said softly "I'm a little worried…"

"Ya just said Scott was fine! Is he or isn't he?" the young man demanded.

"It's not Scott I'm worried about, it's you John."

"Me?"

"Yes you."

"There's no call for you to be." Johnny squirmed uneasily; he never knew how to react to people's concern especially his old man's.

"Jelly said there was a poker game tonight."

Johnny gazed quizzically up at his father unsure just how the hell Bert's poker game came into the scheme of things. "Yeah there was!"

"You didn't go."

Johnny somehow managed to swallow the 'obviously not' that was sitting on his tongue itching to be said and simply replied "No!"

"Why?"

"We had guests remember?"

"But that's not the reason you didn't go!" Murdoch stated softly

Even more uncomfortable now Johnny shrugged and said "You'd a chewed me out…wouldn't ya?"

"No. I think you need some time for yourself Johnny. Away from the ranch, away from…" Murdoch hesitated: he wasn't doing a very good job of this and he feared saying something that could easily be taken the wrong way by his son.

"Away from what?" Just what was his father getting at?

"Scott's getting more independent by the day…"

"You saying I need to get away from Scott?" The younger man's voice rose in disbelief.

"No of course not, not exactly…"

"Not exactly! What the hell does that mean old man?" Johnny growled suddenly becoming very suspicious of his fathers intentions.

"All it means is that you have a life to live too, and right now you're so involved in Scott's…"

"Has Scott said something?" Johnny asked coldly.

"No but…"

"But nothing! I've heard enough so if you don't mind, I'm tired and you obviously are!" Johnny snarled sarcastically as he tugged at his covers to remove them from under his father's weight.

Murdoch was forced to get to his feet and could only watch as his younger boy disappeared beneath several layers of bedding. He knew he'd been dismissed and with a weary sigh headed out of Johnny's room, cursing his inept handling of the situation; not that he'd given up on the matter no, he'd try again tomorrow!

JMLJML

It was late Saturday afternoon when Murdoch came into Scott's room. The Jenkins' had left shortly after lunch and his older son and he had spent a couple hours after their departure going over some contracts. When they finished with the paperwork Murdoch had suggested they quit for the day and that Scott go stretch out for a few hours – as was his daily routine. As he usually did, he gave his elder son a few minutes to get to his room before he quietly followed.

Sam had been right in his statement the night before about how much Scott had become dependent on him in attending to his personal needs. He assisted his son routinely now, few words spoken, helping in the areas that required assistance, staying back and letting Scott do as much for himself as he was able. Perhaps because of this intimate relationship that had naturally developed during these past few months, it would be easier, as the good doctor suggested, for the two of them to have a discussion on the limitations of his body and the added burden those limitations could put on a marriage. He didn't want to hinder his son's ability to have a full, wonderful life with a woman he loved; but he also didn't want Scott and Cara to go into the marriage with blinders about Scott's paralysis and the affect it would have on their lives.

Just thinking about the things that he did for his son on a daily basis, Murdoch wondered if his 'very private son' would truly feel comfortable allowing a spouse to do these things. Some, such as bathing, would still require the help of either he or Johnny, at least getting into and out of the tub; but other things, such as assisting Scott's more personal needs…….well that would be his son's decision.

Moving into Scott's room, he walked over to bring the commode close to the bed. Turning to his son, he helped the young man remove his clothing to ready himself for the transfer to the chair. As was his habit, Murdoch held onto the back of the chair to insure it remained steady and watched as Scott easily moved from his bed to the commode: a task that seemed almost insurmountable to the his son just a month ago. Murdoch discreetly left the room then, as he always did, allowing Scott to maintain some privacy and dignity.

Returning to the room sometime later, he quietly helped Scott finished up and then carried the commode back to its place in the far corner of the room behind a small free standing screen. Once everything was completed Scott slowly lowered himself onto the pillows, which had earlier been placed against the headboard. Knowing that now was the time to talk to his son, Murdoch's face took on a serious look as he sat down on the bed next to him, unsure of how exactly to start this conversation – but hopeful that however he did, it would be with more success than he had had with Johnny the night before.

"Something on your mind, Murdoch?" the young man asked before the elder Lancer had a chance to speak.

"Am I that obvious!" Murdoch smiled at his elder son, "I was just composing my thoughts and here you are ahead of me once again."

"Well usually sir, once your are finished helping me prepare for my daily rest you just leave – I think to make sure that I do rest and not get into any lengthy discussion with you on ranch business, or politics, or a legislative issue. So I assume that since today you are 'taking a load off' on my bed that you have something on your mind."

Murdoch nodded pursing his lips a minute before deciding to jump right in.

"Son, I know that being a father is new to me still, and perhaps I will never know all that there is to know, but as a father I do know that I only want both of my sons to be happy. For that reason I feel I need to take the bull by the horn, so to speak, and talk to you for a few moments. So bear with me, if you will." Murdoch paused and looked at his son, and seeing him nod his head slightly, went on.

"I know that you and Cara are starting to become quite serious about each other, if you haven't already done so, and I want to talk to you about some things I feel you two need to discuss before your relationship goes any farther." Looking at Scott's face as he was talking, Murdoch could tell that his son had a good understanding of what this conversation would be about. Again he saw his son nod his head slightly, and felt emboldened to talk on.

"I suspect from the knowing look on your face that you know I want to talk to you about your paralysis and how that can and will affect your life with Cara. I want to make sure that you and Cara spend time discussing the limitations you have and the burden your paralysis can have on a marriage before you propose to her."

Before Murdoch could continue, Scott shared his own thoughts.

"We have talked about some of the things, Murdoch, just not all of them. However, I do know that it is important that we do so." Scott looked down at his hands for a moment before bringing his eyes back to his father's.

"I was thinking this very same thing just last night when we were on the veranda. Cara was so excited about how things were working out at school with the children. She was going on about how much she loved children. I know that I need to talk to her about the chances of me being able to father a child as being almost nil, but I also need to talk to her about the possibility of my condition not being viewed favorably by adoption agencies and or courts in allowing a child to be placed in our care." He looked at his father almost in a pleading way, hoping that Murdoch would argue against his last statement; but when the elder Lancer only shook his head saying he did not know, he felt his heart lurch a little at the knowledge that adoption too might be difficult for him and Cara.

"I also think it is only fair to explain to Cara that perhaps I won't even be able to be with her in a sexual way, that I may be completely dysfunctional. Sam and Dr. Barnes were unsure when we talked, but felt there was a strong possibility that I would not be able to perform the act itself."

He blushed thinking about what he had just said, but suddenly felt Murdoch's warm hand moving to cover his own hands, imparting love and understanding in that simple gesture. Scott gave his father a small smile, acknowledging the comfort that was given.

"And of course there is the personal matters, the help I need in attending to those things, the protective cloths I now wear – it's just that I know I need to discuss all this with her. But Murdoch, I don't want or even expect Cara to provide care for me in these matters. Maybe after many years of married life, a man could rely on a wife to do it – it is just that I can't; at least not now." Again he paused, and Murdoch felt it was the right time for him to interrupt.

"Scott, this all has to be so hard for you, I know. But I also know that you will find it within yourself to have this talk with Cara – she must come into a marriage with you with her eyes wide open and full understanding of your condition and the limitations you both will be faced with. As difficult as it may seem now it will do neither of you any good to postpone it until after a commitment is made, or worst yet, not have it at all and find yourselves married and issues develop then.

"Why don't you rest for a while Scott, and we can continue this conversation later after you have had time to think about it. Or if you feel you want to just talk to Cara, well that is fine to. Whatever you need from me, I'll be here to help you." Murdoch squeezed his son's hands, and then started to rise from the bed.

Scott gave his father a small smile.

"Thank you Father, I know that this is not easy for you either. I think you are about as reticent as I am when it comes to talking about personal matters such as these; and a few months ago if you had asked me if I would ever be having a conversation such as this with my father or anyone for that matter, including Johnny, I would have told you, you were nuts. But after these last two months, you and Johnny have helped me not only to accept my paralysis, but to accept your help with my personal needs, without feeling embarrassed or ashamed. So for all of that I am grateful beyond what words can convey.

"I do think though, that I am ready to talk to Cara about all of this – it is just a matter of finding the appropriate time. And before you can say anything about that – I will find the time soon, I promise you, because it is time for me to ask Miss Cara Jenkins to be my wife, but before I do so, she must understand what that entails."

Murdoch put his hand on Scott's shoulder, a large smile on his face at the news his son has just shared.

"Good I'm glad you understand the importance of talking to her soon, because having Cara as a daughter-in-law would make your old man immensely happy, Son. I couldn't think of a more perfect woman for you to marry. And may I add that I am very proud of all that you have accomplished during these past few months. You have become more independent every day. I know, Scott that it has not been easy. However, you have used the same courage in adapting to your paralysis that I know you used during the war and facing the deplorable conditions you found yourself in when in the confederate prison. I know I don't say it very much, perhaps have never said it, but I am very proud of the man you have become, Son, Now why don't you rest now for a while, I'll come check on you in a couple of hours. In the meantime, read or just close your eyes and rest. Okay?"

Scott nodded finding that he was a little taken aback by what his father had just said, and also finding that he was a little more tired than he thought. He closed his eyes just as his father closed the door. Each in his own private thoughts of just how Cara would handle all that Scott needed to share.

JMLJML

Johnny had somehow managed to avoid his father all day, except of course for mealtimes, but he'd deemed those times relatively safe because they hadn't been alone.

He'd tried hard not to dwell on what his father had said the night before and had more or less succeeded up until now.

Sam and Cara had returned home in the early afternoon and Scott and Murdoch were embroiled in a game of chess. He had quietly watched them try to outwit each other for a good hour, but as restlessness took hold, he had excused himself and moved outside onto the veranda, coffee mug in his hand.

The sun was setting, daylight quickly fading and so he had taken a match from his pocket, struck it against his boot, and lit two of the lamps situated on the haciendas outside wall. Then with a sigh he had eased his lean frame into one of the porch chairs.

There was little to occupy his mind out here, not at this time of night. He liked that normally as it gave him time to put his thoughts on recent events in order, tonight he didn't want to. Still he found the conversation he'd had with his father sneaking past his defenses.

Scott needed him and as long as he did he would be there for him! How could the old man think otherwise? Maybe Murdoch was tired of tending to Scott's needs but he wasn't...no that wasn't fair, neither was it true. There was nothing Murdoch wouldn't do for his sons, nothing! So what was the reasoning behind his words? Johnny could make neither head nor tail of them.

A noise behind him made his heart beat a little faster; he turned around expecting to see his father and was relieved to see his brother opening the French door. In an instant Johnny was on his feet rushing to assist his brother, "I'll do it."

Scott was halfway through the doorway but bit back on an assurance that he could manage. Instead he smiled, and gestured at the bottle of whisky that along with two glasses nestled in his lap.

"I like the way you think Big Brother!"

"I'm not just a pretty face you know" Scott grinned as he maneuvered his chair alongside the one his brother had been sitting in.

Grinning Johnny retook his seat and asked "He win?"

"No. I did of course."

"Ya did? How'd ya manage that, the old man looked to be the winner when I stepped outside."

A little coyly Scott admitted "His mind seemed to be on other things."

Johnny had an idea of what and determined not to dwell on it quickly pointed at the bottle in his brother's hand "You planning on sharing that anytime soon?"

Sensing something was amiss with the two men Scott nodded "It has the knack of loosening a man's tongue!"

"You should be drinking with him then!" Johnny snapped gesturing inside to where his father could be seen sitting in his armchair. He was irritable now because he thought his father had been discussing him with his brother.

Scott ignored the outburst and went on to pour two generous amounts of his father's best malt into the glasses now placed on the porch table. Staring up at the first star to appear he commented "Nice evening."

Johnny stared up at the sky, "Yeah."

"Its Saturday night, you should be in town..."

"What's he said?" Johnny demanded, eyes flashing angrily.

"Nothing!" The blond Lancer exclaimed his curiosity increasing tenfold. "What's going on between you two?"

"Nothing"

"Something is!"

"Scott!"

"Alright! I'll take your word for it."

Johnny couldn't look his brother in the eye after that comment, so instead picked up a glass and gazed into its contents.

"You should go Johnny, it would do you good." Scott's words were met by an uneasy silence but he knew he had to push home his point. His brother was either working or helping him with his needs, he hadn't been to town since the accident. In fact, Johnny hadn't been anywhere since the accident, he was too busy fussing over him.

In the beginning Johnny had encouraged, even bullied him on, standing a little ways back but at the same time supporting him as he struggled to master his new way of life. But now, every time he turned around it seemed Johnny was there, falling over himself to help even when Scott was in need of none. He didn't mean to be ungrateful, after all he could never thank his brother enough for all he'd done for him; but...well he could do almost everything for his self now. Scott didn't want his brother to feel he couldn't leave him, that he depended on him, because he didn't, at least not to that great a degree. It wasn't fair on Johnny, and it couldn't go on. Scott was getting on with his life and it was past time Johnny did the same. "A cold beer would taste pretty good right now wouldn't it?"

"I guess it would." Johnny agreed reluctantly.

"That settles it then..."

"I'm not going now Scott!"

"Next Saturday then?"

"Yeah, maybe next Saturday." The dark haired Lancer said half-heartedly.

"Why don't you want to go?"

"Why are you so hell bent on me going?"

"Because Johnny, I want you to move on. I want you to start enjoying life again like I have."

"I am doing!" Johnny protested.

"No you are not. You work long hours and when you're not working you are with me. Like tonight, you've never been more than ten feet from my side." Scott looked at his brother's bowed head and softened his tone "You allow yourself no free time. It's almost as if you don't believe you deserve it! You do know that none of this is your fault Johnny..."

"Whose fault is it then? Certainly not yours!"

"No one's at fault, no one's to blame. It was an accident, they happen, they're part and parcel of life. We have to deal with these trials and tribulations and move on. We as a family dealt with it. I couldn't have done it without you. I have moved on, Murdoch has moved on; but you have not Johnny and I'm not prepared to let that continue. I truly appreciate everything you do for me and especially the fact that there is nothing you would not do for me. But having helped give me back my wings isn't it time you opened the cage and let me fly?"

"You sure you haven't been talking to the old man?" Johnny asked, a small smile settling on his lips.

Grinning the blond Lancer replied, "No, we just think alike!"

Johnny knew he had to admit defeat, "Ok! Next Saturday I'll go down me a few beers..."

"Me too!"

"Yeah?" Johnny's eyes sparked with enthusiasm.

"Yes. I thought I would take Cara out for a meal first. I can't take her to the dance that night but I can wine and dine her, then after I have escorted her home I thought we might play some poker and..."

"Sure! I'll take you and..." The dark haired Lancer enthused already thinking ahead and mentally planning the outing.

"No you won't. You are having the evening off remember? I'll ask one of the men to drive me in, Tom maybe. Steps may prove tricky, but where there's a will there's a way."

"Tom's just a kid..." Concern flashed across the youngest Lancers face.

"He's a bit green I grant you but then, I don't really want someone with all the answers. I want the minimum of backup because quite simply I want to prove to myself that I can do something like this by myself..."

"I understand that Scott but..."

"You think it's too much too soon?"

Johnny shrugged he knew he should be encouraging his brother in such a show of independence but couldn't quite shake off the concern he felt about him taking such a giant step.

"I wouldn't even contemplate it if I wasn't confident in my abilities. And anyway I want to work up a thirst, got to justify drinking all those beers you're buying."

"I'm buying?"

With a mischievous glint in his eye Scott replied "You won't get any arguments from me Brother," Lifting his glass and clinking it against his brother's he grinned, "Here's to next Saturday night."

TBC

Con and Molly - who would very much like to apologize for the delay in posting this.


End file.
